Oathkeepers
by Nate Grey
Summary: The power of a promise can be a terrible thing. Kiritsugu vows to save Illya, even if it means again turning children into soldiers and bringing war to the Einzberns. But Illya has made an oath with the last entity she should, and the unexpected impact this has on all Servants changes everything. Be of good cheer, Masters: your Avengers are here.
1. Chapter 1

Notes: I am finally posting this, after years of indecision. And no, the genders in the opening scene aren't a mistake. I know there are very similar stories out there, but I feel comfortable that this one is distinct enough where no one will be accused of anything dishonest.

* * *

**Oathkeepers**  
**A Fate Series Fusion by**  
**Nate Grey (xman0123)**  
**Chapter 0: The Once and Future Kings: The Lost Tale of Mordred, Heir of Arthur**

* * *

"KILL KING ARTHUR, MY MORDRED! RIP HIM FROM HIS THRONE OF LIES AND PUT HIS ROTTING CORPSE ON DISPLAY!"

In that moment, the king did not know which was the greater source of pain: the agony constantly sent racing through his body via the dungeon's cursed bindings, the bloodcurdling shrieking of the thing that had once been his sister, or the indecision in the eyes of his only child.

No, _their_ only child, he reminded himself with a twinge of disgust. How far his sister had fallen.

And how masterful her scheme was.

Even once he knew where Mordred came from, even once he guessed what his sister had in store for them all, the king found he could not act at all. Mordred was an innocent: guided by the false words of a mother who had long ago ceased to truly be one, and desperately seeking acceptance from a father he had only just begun to know as such. To blame Mordred, or to punish him, would only make Morgan more determined to dethrone the king, and if she had already gone this far, there was no telling what she would prove capable of with the next plot.

The king tested the bonds once more. There was no give in them, and his efforts only rewarded him with further pain. He sagged in exhaustion as Morgan's laughter assaulted his ears.

And Mordred stood some distance behind her, gazing at each of his parents in turn, an unreadable expression frozen on his face.

"Mordred," the king whispered, and the young knight's gaze swung to him at once. "My son. I cannot imagine what you are feeling right now. And I dare not add to your burden. But if this is to be my last moment alive, then there is something I would say to you."

Mordred said nothing, but his hand gripped the hilt of the stolen sword Clarent even tighter.

"A proper king is allowed precious few selfish joys. But you need to know: these last few months, watching you grow as a knight, then learning the truth of your identity. Spending time together, not as king and knight, but as father and son... they have been the best months of my life. I must thank you for that pleasure. Even if it occurred in a way that neither of us would have asked: thank you for being born, my son."

Unable to stand it any longer, Mordred tore his eyes away from the king's earnest gaze. "Father... I'm sorry." Then his form tensed and blurred forward.

Morgan was laughing and screaming, hands raised in victory.

As one of the few alive who could follow Mordred's speed, the king saw the overwhelming pain his child's face, as well as the grim determination to do what had to be done. And then he understood what Mordred had truly been apologizing for, and could not look away.

Clarent burst from Morgan's black heart, and her shrieking turned to outraged death wails.

Mordred buried his face in his mother's back, holding her firmly, even as he bore her frenzied scratches, even as he twisted Clarent again and again. For killing Morgan le Fay could never be a simple, quick task. Eventually, her struggles weakened, and Mordred lowered her carefully to the ground, caressing her hair and murmuring apologies in her ear until the darkness faded from her eyes, leaving them blank and still.

The bindings held even after Morgan's death, but the king did not dare to request Mordred's help just yet. With Clarent still in Mordred's hand, the danger had not passed for either of them. Already, the king could sense a malevolent aura growing around the blade. If it wasn't dealt with immediately, Morgan's plans could still succeed, even without her bearing witness to them.

Finally, Mordred left his mother's side, and used Clarent to slash through the magical bindings. He would not or could not meet his father's eyes.

"I meant everything I said to you, Mordred." The king slowly reached out and placed a firm hand on the young knight's shoulder.

For the first time, Mordred did not seem to welcome the pressure, but he did not pull away.

"Will you not look at me, my son?" the king asked.

"I am unworthy-"

"No. If anything, you have just proven that you are worthy. For any other Knight of the Round, this would have just been their duty of protecting their king. But for you, this was a cruel test of loyalty. And your devotion will be rewarded."

Mordred raised tear-filled eyes and glared at the king. "You think I want a reward for _this_?!"

"Just as with evils, rewards are not something we always desire. But they may be thrust upon us, or earned through our actions. And no matter how you see it, you both saved and spared my life tonight. You have every right to question me in my role as your father. But I will never be the sort of king that could ignore something like this. Just as you are not the sort of son I will hide any longer."

Mordred's eyes widened. "F-Father, what are you saying?"

"Kneel before me, Knight of the Round, and present your sword to me."

They both knew that Mordred had stolen Clarent that very night, for use in Morgan's plot to slay the king. It was not rightfully Mordred's sword. And yet, for the king to refer to it as such, could only mean one thing.

With shaking hands, Mordred did as ordered.

The king held Clarent in his hands. "You know the significance of this sword, or you wouldn't have chosen it. You know what it is capable of, when awarded properly. And you are such a knight that, even as a stolen sword, you were in no way prevented from making excellent use of it. But I cannot allow you, of all people, to use a stolen sword. Yet it is clear to me that this sword was destined for you." The king carefully placed Clarent into Mordred's hands, relieved to see the dark aura around the sword was already lessening. "I award Clarent to you now, as gratitude for protecting your king, as well as proof. Let all who see it know: you are my son, my heir, and the next king."

Mordred let out a loud whoop of pure joy and leaped up, protocol forgotten as he dropped Clarent and threw his arms around the king.

For his part, the king froze, and then tenderly embraced his son. Never before had either dared to hope such a thing might be possible.

That felt unusual enough that Mordred immediately realized what he'd done, and quickly jumped back, face burning in shame as he knelt again. "I sincerely apologize, my king!"

"There is no need for that, my son. Now, pick up your sword and prepare yourself for what is to come. As for me..." The king paused and sighed heavily. "I must bury my sister." For that had been the thing that Mordred was truly apologizing for.

Mordred opened his mouth, possibly to protest and insist on helping with the task, but finally nodded and did as ordered.

The king stared at his sister's body for a long moment. "Is this truly what you wanted for our child? To force Mordred to betray one of his parents completely? Is motherhood no more to you than using a child as a tool of destruction?"

There was no reply.

"I will _not_ let Mordred be your final plot. I sense your corruption in him, even now. I know that he stands upon the precipice between our two legacies. He lacks the capacity to be king, as he is. But he has a lion's heart, and what he lacks, I will plant and grow in him, until he is fit. And your taint will not even be a whisper in the pages of his legend. I promise you that, sister."

The heated response came not from the fallen witch, but from everywhere all at once.

"You lie to yourself, false king! You recognize that child as your heir only because you know he would destroy you otherwise. My Mordred is strong and clever and unstoppable! You play on his feelings for you, because you know his hatred is the one force you cannot hope to stand against!"

"Just as my recognition is the one force that can overtake your lies in his heart." The king bowed his head. "This is not the end I would have hoped for between the two of us. But know this: from this day forward, Mordred is mine alone. You have lost all right to call him your child. And even if you hadn't, my heir will not have any further dealings with one such as you."

Unknown to the king, Mordred had paused just outside of the dungeon, and had heard every word. The idea that his father was only naming him heir in an effort to save or control him would normally have been a source of great and terrible anger in Mordred. But all he could focus on was the big picture.

He wasn't fit to be king. Not now. But instead of casting him aside and choosing someone more suitable, the king was going to improve him, until Mordred was fit. Someone else would surely be an easier choice, but for whatever reason, the king wanted Mordred to have the throne. And that was all that mattered.

"Father... _chose_ me," Mordred whispered, tears spilling from his eyes. "Father... _wants_ me." The grim determination flared in his eyes once more. "I will not fail his faith in me. I will be worthy! I am the _one and only Heir of Arthur_!"

* * *

**The Future and Forever King 1**

* * *

No mortal man will ever see the Throne of Heroes.

There are numerous reasons for this.

The most complicated reasons are a simultaneous problem of location, access, and ability to comprehend.

The simplest reason is that the King of Heroes would never allow mongrels to look upon his pedigrees in the place especially set aside for them.

So it must be immediately assumed that any mortal who claims to have seen, or attempts to describe, or even postulates the nature of the Throne of Heroes, is one of three things.

A dreamer, a liar, or both at the same time.

And yet, some mortals _must_ dream of the Throne of Heroes. How could they not? What more legendary gathering place could there possibly be?

So there are men who dream of the Throne of Heroes. In all likelihood, no mortal dream could ever hope to compare in the eyes of those who have actually been there.

But let us pretend, just for a moment, that the Throne of Heroes is exactly what a man might dream of. Where heroes live. Where they can gather to drink, feast, be merry. Where they can freely swap stories of their ever-growing legends, and boast of feats they still intend to accomplish.

It would be so easy to find a king in that fabled hall. No, many kings.

But it would be easiest of all to find the King of Conquerors. For whenever the finest of wine flows, the music is most pleasing, and heroes can view each other as both excellent comrades and greatest rivals, no voice is more boisterous, or more wine-drenched, than that of Iskandar.

And if Iskandar is loud and pleased and drinking, then there is only one hero he would have in his company. Or rather, there is only one hero who delights in the company of Iskandar when he is in that state. Or perhaps, there is only one hero who can _stand_ to be in his company under such conditions. They never met in their respective lives, but the instant they encountered each other in that place, a bond of brotherhood was born.

The eternal conquering spirit and the eternal rebel heart. Their natures were far too similar for them not to be brothers at first sight. They clashed, of course, and their battles were fierce and terrible to behold. And then they would drown their differences in drink, loudly plotting to overthrow the King of Heroes while others looked on in horror. Often they were too drunk to notice that the King of Heroes himself was standing three feet from them, so it was not as if he remained unaware.

So, if nothing else, never let it be said that Iskandar and his favorite drinking companion had failed to amuse the King of Heroes. For surely that was the only reason this drunken and obvious nature of plotting had never resulted in any serious punishment. Although, if one had temporarily ensured that the quality of their wine was decreased a few grades, and the pair failed to notice, then that one might be appropriately smug.

And perhaps, one day, the following conversation might take place...

* * *

"Rejoice, Iska-san!" the blonde said. "I have been chosen!"

"So," the redhead responded with a grin, "my sworn brother at last has his turn to seek the Holy Grail. In that case, there is only one thing left to do." He grabbed his enormous wine goblet, drank deeply from it, and then immediately smashed it over the edge of the blonde's chair.

Some might have seen that as an act of disrespect.

The redhead stood up, swaying slightly on his feet, and addressed the entire hall. "I proclaim this seat to be the Siege Perilous!" he roared. "None may touch it until my sworn brother returns to us with victory in hand! So says Iskandar, King of Conquerors!"

The room went still, and all heads turned to the King of Heroes, who occupied his usual throne on the second floor of the drinking hall. Even in a place reserved for relaxation and merriment, he had to be above them all. Without a word, and with no obvious interest in what had just been said, Gilgamesh merely raised his own goblet ever so slightly, and then sipped from it.

It was law, then.

A brilliant smile spread across Iskandar's face, and he turned back to his companion, who had still failed to be angry about being showered in wine and bits of goblet. "My brother. Go and seek the Holy Grail. Add to your legend, so that when you return, you will finally be fit to call yourself the greatest of Iskandar's commanders!"

The blonde grinned, exposing pointed fangs. "When I return, you will finally join my court, Iska-san."

They glared at each other, then roared in laughter and embraced firmly, pounding each other's backs heartily. As they released each other, the blonde nodded, turned, and began to walk away.

Iskandar seized a new goblet and thrust it into air, spilling wine in several directions. "One last toast for my brother, who has been chosen! We eagerly await his successful return! All of you, raise your wine for the Heir of Arthur! The Peerless Wielder of Caliburn and Clarent! The Future and Forever King!"

There was no need to name the chosen any further. All who drank the wine of King of Heroes knew of Iskandar's sworn brother. They knew of the infectious fanged smile, the eyes that burned with the hunger to overthrow, and the heart that was only filled to bursting when set ablaze in the heat of battle.

As one, every person in the drinking hall raised their wine. And though the King of Heroes remained silent, his eyes were firmly on the proud back of the chosen as the others roared, "TO MO-SAN!"

And with a wide, eager grin splitting the always youthful face, Mordred Pendragon raised a fist in salute.

* * *

Sometimes, the truth of legends is twisted, lost, forgotten, or hidden.

Sometimes, history tells the story it thinks we should hear, rather than the one that happened.

There is certainly a Knight of Treachery named Mordred.

But there is also a much-revered heir who succeeded Arthur as King of Britain, united the fractured people under her own charismatic banner, and far surpassed every expectation of her. This heir is also named Mordred, and was awarded her family's name of Pendragon well before that.

Perhaps the Knight of Treachery was summoned in one world, because the Heir of Arthur already existed in another. Or perhaps the reverse is true. Who can say for sure?

One King of Knights, and Morgan le Fay, possibly. But each is unlikely to reveal the secrets of their child.

The King of Heroes, surely. But he keeps his own counsel. And does not often lower himself to converse with mere mortals. Certainly not on matters which he would say are none of their concern.

What should concern all, however, is that Mordred, in any form, is the name of a born rebel. So that any Mordred would be summoned for any Holy Grail War, meant that great change, awesome or terrible, was sure to follow.

**End of Chapter 0.**

* * *

**Continued in Chapter 1: One Last War**

Shirou wanted to save Kiritsugu. To do that, they must free Illya. And to do that, they must prepare for the world to burn again. But this time, it will be no accident.

* * *

**Endnotes:**

Since Apocrypha is set in a parallel universe, I concluded that the Mordred summoned there might be different from one summoned into the Stay Night universe. And then I realized, of course that would be the case. I don't think there's anyone enough like the original summoner to summon the exact same Mordred, in the exact same class, into an entirely different situation.

Arthur's ideals directly clash with Mordred's views of kingship, so you're likely wondering how Arthur trying to grow "capacity" in Mordred could possibly work. It wouldn't, they're two very different people, Mordred is defiance where Arthur is order. So they'd make for two very different kings. And perhaps a complete departure from the old way was what was sorely needed at the time.

I tried to craft a Mordred that was based on the original Servant, but with the added twist of having been accepted by Arthur and eventually rising to become king. Some things are the same, others not. Noble Phantasms will, and should, be different (as the game of Hot Potato with Clarent should indicate). I will eventually provide detailed bios for any Servant I've edited, but doing that in full, at this point, would reveal too much. So I will most likely trim the bios down to what has so far been shown in the story, then add more as needed. Best to start in the next chapter, when there will be two Servants, so you can better compare them and more accurately complain about how broken I've made Mordred. I should note, however, that for the most part, I've left stats unchanged (and when I haven't, that will be stated), so I won't bother including those.

I encourage questions and comments, as I'm sure my taking artistic license (better known as straight wrecking stuff in some circles) with certain elements has raised a few eyebrows.


	2. One Last War

Notes: Re-watched the two Heaven's Feel movies over the weekend to remind myself why I wanted to do this. I don't think I'm ever meant to like any character named Shinji...

* * *

**Oathkeepers**  
**A Fate Series Fusion by**  
**Nate Grey (xman0123-at-aol-dot-com)**  
**Chapter 1: One Last War**

* * *

The old man took trips sometimes.

Shirou didn't know why he did, but the old man did. And he was not so much an old man as he was a young man with an old man's eyes, soul, and aches. But still, he was the old man who had saved Shirou's life, so nothing else was more important.

It was after Kiritsugu returned from one of these trips that Shirou heard him crying late one night. Not like a child, or like a woman, or even a person at all. They were the tears and sobs of a cursed thing who has no hope of joy left, in this world or any other. A thing like that only had death to look forward to, and it would not have to look for long.

Shirou decided then, with the unawareness and the frankness that only a child could possess: he would save Kiritsugu, the way Kiritsugu had saved him. He would devote his life to making Kiritsugu happy, or, failing that, making it so Kiritsugu at least wouldn't cry this way anymore. He had no idea what that meant, or what it would cost, but he didn't care.

Some things were just worth the cost.

This... may not have been one of them.

* * *

Kiritsugu would have given up, if not for them.

The mother and daughter on the street, who looked nothing like his Iri or Illya, who didn't even sound like them when they laughed. But he had passed close enough to smell the mother's perfume, to see the brightness in the girl's gaze.

That had been enough to send the voices of his beloved girls rushing to his ears, haunting him more than they ever had before, and that was saying something. But it had all seemed so hopeless, and he had been prepared to give up. He had even thought of taking his own life, though he knew that would not reunite him with Iri. How could it, when he had not kept his promise to take care of Illya? No matter how much Iri loved him, she would never return to his side, not while their daughter was out there, away from both of them.

Then Shirou came to him, and took an oath to him. It reminded Kiritsugu so much of the oaths he'd make to Iri and Illya. He couldn't just give up. But the Einzberns were formidable opponents, and they would never hand Illya over to him. He would have to fight. But in his diminished state, he would never succeed alone. Even at optimal levels, he had never stood a chance against the family head, and certainly not the whole family. No, there was no point in his even attempting to fight them and win.

The best solution was far simpler, once Kiritsugu was ready to admit it to himself.

* * *

"I have another child," Kiritsugu told Shirou. "A girl named Illyasviel. There was an important task my wife and I had to carry out, so I entrusted Illya to my wife's family, in exchange for completing that task. But I failed, and the family refused to return Illya to me. It was my wife's dying wish for me to raise Illya."

"Then we have to do whatever it takes to make that happen!" Shirou declared.

"It won't be easy. Illya's family is a proud, powerful one, and normal methods won't work. Only extremes. There is no chance for me to defeat them. So there is only one path open to me."

"Then let's do it!" Shirou insisted.

Kiritsugu stared at Shirou. "This path will shorten my life, and it might cost you yours, Shirou. You can refuse. I'll see to it that you're taken care of, if you would rather not-"

"My place is with you! And so is Illya's! I know she's waiting for you to come and get her!"

Kiritsugu was silent for a moment. "If that's really true, then we may have a chance. But you need to understand right now, what I intend to do to that family."

"Whatever it is, we-"

"Many people will die again," Kiritsugu said softly. "That whole family will be reduced to ashes. Because of me. Because of us."

Shirou stared at Kiritsugu in silence. That fateful day still haunted both of them, and more importantly, the thought of many people dying all at once, for any reason, was still one of the worst things that Shirou could imagine. But part of the horror was that there still no reason or explanation for it. The unknown made it so much worse.

And now Kiritsugu, who had yanked Shirou out of death's grasp, and rejoiced in the boy's existence, planned to kill many people. No one would have blamed Shirou, if he had walked away from Kiritsugu, or cursed him for trying to bring about a tragedy of that magnitude for any reason. And Shirou himself briefly considered both reactions.

But then he considered the obvious truth. Everything he had now, was because of Kiritsugu. If not for Kiritsugu, Shirou would be dead. So no matter what mistakes Kiritsugu made or what sins he committed, Shirou could never, would never turn away from him.

After all, children should be with parents who wanted and needed them so desperately. And if Illya's feelings were at all similar, surely she was waiting for her father to come and get her. It wasn't right to make her wait any longer than was absolutely necessary.

In that moment, Shirou doomed himself. He made a conscious choice to devote his life to Kiritsugu, and to Illya. He told himself that any wrongs would be done in the name of a greater good, even if that good only impacted the three of them. He was making the wrong choice, but for all of the right reasons.

"Would Illya still accept you?" Shirou finally asked. "If you killed her family?"

"I don't know," Kiritsugu admitted. "I only know that right now, she has no choice at all. I'm the only other option, and she may not even know that I'm still alive. She may reject me for any number of reasons. But if there is even the slightest chance that she wants to be with me, I can't abandon her. I made an oath to her, and I will keep it, even if means my only reward is Illya spitting in my face."

"Then we'll save her," Shirou promised, grabbing Kiritsugu's hands. "We'll do it together. We're her real family! She will come to accept that, I'm sure."

Shirou truly believed that. Or at least, he eventually came to believe it. A lie told in the name of love. For the desperate, there was often nothing stronger in the world.

* * *

Not for the first time, the daughter of Kiritsugu and Irisviel opened her eyes to find the shadow leaning over her.

It was not really a shadow, of course. But that description, while simple and inaccurate, allowed Illyasviel to focus on what it seemed to be, rather than what all of her instincts screamed at her it actually was, each time it appeared before her.

This creature, composed of slithering darkness and smoking mud, insisted on wearing the form of her mother. And while this was obviously meant to torment, a rather large part of Illyasviel found it strangely comforting. This thing, which whispered horrid lies and bittersweet half-truths in her ear, did so in a perfect replica of her mother's voice.

There could be no doubt that the shadow's goal was to twist and corrupt Illyasviel. To what end, only it could say for certain. But Illyasviel was an Einzbern, and now that she no longer had either of her parents around to stall the process, her magical studies had begun in earnest. She could easily hazard an educated guess as to what the shadow wanted from her, and more importantly, what it actually was.

So she waited, until the shadow was in the midst of one of its usual tirades, and interrupted it.

"Hey. You're the Holy Grail, right? I mean, you're what's inside of it?"

The shadow immediately fell silent.

"You have to be. That's how you have my mother's form. Because you met her, when she died."

The shadow said nothing.

"Thank you, for letting me see her. They got rid of all of her pictures, except the ones I managed to hide. They call her a distraction."

The shadow hesitantly drifted closer to her. If Illyasviel noticed, she did not react.

"I don't think we're all that different, you and me. I was created to be a vessel for the Holy Grail, and they won't let me be anything else. And you just want to escape it, right? But they won't let you out, either." Illyasviel raised her head and stared into the place where she thought the shadow's eyes must be. "Hey. Do you want to make a contract with me?"

The shadow froze.

"We could help each other. I'm not a perfect vessel. But if you promise to never abandon me, I'll promise to never abandon you. I'll help you get your freedom, and you can help me get mine. That way, we'll never be alone, or forced to be anything we don't want to be."

The shadow did not respond with words. It did withdraw for the moment. But it hadn't rejected the offer outright.

And even when she could no longer see the shadow, Illyasviel could still sense it, just on the edge of her perception.

Lurking.

Considering.

And for the first time, the knowledge of its presence made her smile.

* * *

**The Future and Forever King 2**

It was not the feeling of falling, or the total darkness that did it. Rather, it was the certainty that there was something within the darkness that threatened the Heir of Arthur's path and existence that caused Mordred Pendragon to awaken.

And even if Mordred had not, there was no way that the swords Caliburn and Clarent would have remained inactive in that situation.

Caliburn: broken once, but reforged with Mordred's own blood as an ingredient. It could not help but sing in its owner's hand. It had no choice but to strike in her defense, even if she were unable to command it to do so.

Clarent: forged for no other reason than absolute proof of kingship, and Mordred was the king it had chosen, the only king it would ever choose.

Both blades hummed and vibrated in the darkness, seeking to warn their owner of the danger. But Mordred already knew. The instinct to survive and detect danger had been hammered into that body at an early age, by a mother who intended for Mordred to be her crowning achievement, in every sense of the phrase. So anything that threatened the Heir of Arthur, could not remain hidden from the Heir of Arthur.

Though Mordred only had a vague understanding of the process, she knew that this was part of the summoning, although certainly not a correct part of it. Her instincts were screaming that much at her, if nothing else. Something in this darkness meant to end her, or at least, to impact her in a way that Mordred would never agree to.

The first barrage were physical strikes: a slash that would have torn open Mordred's shoulder and belly, had it connected. Caliburn was there to meet the blow and turn it aside, and Mordred could only grin as the next blow fell, though with an entirely different result. This time, there was an audible snap as the dark blade, unseen but all too real, had no choice but to break against the power of Caliburn.

Caliburn, the Pendragon's Claw, which took in all properties of the opposing weapon at the first clash, analyzing strengths and weaknesses, taking in what was needed and discarding what was not. There could only be one result at the second clash: Caliburn, now armed with the knowledge of whatever was needed to crush the foe, would. No weapon could survive the second blow intact.

The second barrage was magic-based and even more ineffective: spears of darkness that would have impaled Mordred from every angle. But as they neared the target, a horrendous shriek flew out of Clarent, deafening to all ears save Mordred's, and obliterating any opposing magical force.

Clarent, the Witch-Queen's Wrath, a blade that had been bathed in the lifeblood of Morgan le Fay, as Mordred had slain her in defense of Arthur. By then, Morgan had become a transformed creature that Mordred could no longer recognize as her mother, wholly consumed by hatred. And Clarent, stained with her ill will, both despised and loved Mordred, as Morgan had in her final moments. Just as there had been no magic that could threaten Morgan, there was no magic that could stand before Clarent.

The third barrage was the real problem. It was not so much an attack as it was a movement: there was a shift, and then Mordred sensed, not that there was an attacker in the darkness, but that every inch of the darkness itself was now an enemy. And the nature of the threat was ill-defined enough where it could not be classified as a weapon that Caliburn could break, nor a magic that Clarent could destroy.

"If you seek to take the life of Mordred Pendragon, then you will learn just how impossible a feat that is!" Mordred roared at the unseen foe. "No one can be a king unless they at least have the strength to bear their entire kingdom on their back, and I am no exception! And where the Heir of Arthur goes, loyal subjects gladly follow!"

In life, from the moment that Mordred's hungry gaze fixed upon a future, it had belonged wholly to the Heir of Arthur, and nothing could prevent it from unfolding. Mordred's kingship was a force of nature which favorable events gravitated to, as if drawn by her sheer strength of will. Britain's people could not help but be drawn to the sight of that proud back, leading them to a future that had been seized by Mordred's own hands.

This was Mordred's greatest Noble Phantasm: Pride Upon My Back. Anyone who recognized Mordred as their king, and wished to follow the Heir of Arthur, was free to do so, nullifying any restriction that might prevent them. Leaving dedicated followers behind was never an option for Mordred, who felt that rejecting hard-earned faith was among the worst sins a king could commit.

Where there was once only Mordred among the darkness, suddenly, there was another, clinging lightly to the Heir of Arthur's armored back.

"You called me, onii-sama?" asked a sweet, high-pitched voice in Mordred's ear.

Mordred grinned. "Yeah. I have a job for my faithful hound."

There was a loud sniff. "I don't like this dark, onii-sama. I can't see your face."

"Then it's fortunate that we brought our own light. We'll use _that_ move."

"Yay! I love that move!"

The slight pressure on Mordred's back vanished and reappeared along Clarent's length. Even in the dark, Mordred could easily picture her companion fondling the blade, licking it for traces of old blood.

Tightening her grip on Clarent, Mordred's grin exposed her fangs as crimson lightning crackled across the sword, and then expanded in all directions, piercing through the darkness. But this alone was not enough, as Mordred had already suspected. That was why each bolt of lightning carried a little something extra: Mordred's companion, who could assume any form, but always attacked in the exact same way. A single stab that carried the hatred of ten thousand. And divided among those countless lightning bolts, Mordred's companion struck, again and again, each blow bearing the weight of an entire kingdom of lost souls.

It must be understood that it was not the amount of power in the attack, nor the murderous nature of the attackers, that caused the darkness to retreat. Rather, it was the mere fact that where the darkness had expected to find and consume one Servant, which was well within its ability, there had unexpectedly been two. That would have been difficult enough, but two so united in thought and purpose? Theirs was a bond that would have been impossible for the darkness to consume. The idea of one living for another, or two living for each other... these were concepts that the darkness could not yet comprehend. And so it withdrew, revealing the path that it had hidden from them.

Mordred smirked and lowered her swords as the path finally became visible. It was little more than a light in the distance, but that was all she needed to see. The slight pressure soon returned to her back, but now she could clearly see her companion. "That was some nice work, Jack."

The childlike face, eerily similar to a younger version of Mordred's own, leaned over her shoulder eagerly. "Yes, yes! Praise me more, onii-sama!"

Mordred reached up to fondly ruffle the smaller blonde's hair. If asked, she could not say for certain what had caused this one to join her. She only knew that it had apparently occurred between another Jack the Ripper, and another Mordred. And while Mordred had no memory of that encounter, her Jack somehow claimed to. But there was no questioning Jack's faith in Mordred. The very nature of Mordred's Noble Phantasm demanded loyalty, and Jack gave it freely. So long as that was true, they would walk together.

"Forward, Jack," Mordred stated, pointing Caliburn ahead of her. "To a new world, our fated Master, heated battle, and the Holy Grail!"

"I'll tell the others, onii-sama!" Jack chirped, briefly nuzzling her cheek against Mordred's. Then she threw her body into a graceful back-flip, fading in a scattering of green sparkles.

Exposing that infamous fanged grin once more, Mordred sheathed her swords and ran straight ahead, as she always did: eager, unafraid, and already dreaming of the prize that she would no doubt soon possess. There could be no other outcome, for the Heir of Arthur.

* * *

It was not unusual for Sakura Matou to hear voices in her head. Most often she would hear her grandfather's voice, issuing his latest order. That, she knew without question, was never a product of her imagination, and ignoring it carried steep penalties.

The worms inside of her, oddly enough, had their own voice. They usually only parroted back the things her grandfather had said earlier, but she would still hear occasional rumblings for "food" (mana) or "drink" (blood... if she were lucky). In any case, her grandfather had put the worms in her, so it was safe to assume that anything they craved, he was fine with her seeking out.

And there were other voices, which she had yet to confirm the sources of.

But there was one, just one, that was different from all of the others. Because it actually said something that Sakura wanted to hear. It said that she wasn't alone. That there was someone else out there like her.

Sakura could not be blamed for misunderstanding. In her desperation, she thought it meant there was another little girl out there who had suffered the same pains and humiliations as she had. And if that was the case, maybe they could both hold out a little longer. They were not alone, after all.

But all the voice really meant was that there was another vessel in its grasp, so it now had its pick of containers. The White Grail of the Einzberns, or the Black Grail of the Matous. Their suffering was the same, yet fundamentally worlds apart. They would never understand each other, never accept each other's existence. And why should they? They could barely even accept their own.

There was one very important difference, of course.

Sakura was being raised with the ultimate goal of her spirit being broken, over and over again, until she was nothing more than a mindless tool for her family's use. So the daily abuse she suffered, while it had a purpose, was rooted in her family delighting in cruelty. This was in no way hidden from her, and it increased her fear of them.

Illyasviel was being raised with the ultimate goal of her spirit flourishing. She was meant to take pride in her power and pedigree. She was just as much a tool as Sakura, but far from mindless. Her thoughts were censored and carefully directed. She was trained ruthlessly, not to break her, but to force her to thrive and excel. And she did, powered in part by her rebellious heart. She did not like the way her family treated her, but any real fear of them had soon been overtaken by resentment.

Two very different little girls, both haunted by the same shadow. But only one was raised with a keen understanding of what that shadow was, what it wanted from her, and what she could gain from it in return. And this was no real surprise: the shadow had dealings with the Einzberns in the past. They had changed very little in all that time. Which made manipulating them now much easier, and more enjoyable.

And yet, the Matou bloodline had survived so long, weak as it now was, because it was directed by a man who had honed his predatory instincts to a razor's edge. And that, more than anything else, was what he tried to implant in every child he had taught: instinct. Some were more successful at learning than others, naturally. And, with Sakura's vast potential, if she could be properly guided until her instincts were as they should be, there was no way that anyone else would be chosen over her.

* * *

Conversation was never something that happened between Illyasviel and Elder Acht naturally. Any words he had for her were strictly orders on what she was meant to do, and delivered by any number of subordinates. In the rare event where he did speak to her directly, it was only to reinforce the importance of a previously given order.

In truth, there was no need to speak. Despite Illyasviel's talent and potential, Elder Acht had created, trained, and broken many homonuculi before her. She was special, but only to the point where her flaws did not overtake her usefulness. The moment that happened, she would be swiftly discarded. That would be a shame, because she was the Einzbern family's final attempt at creating a vessel for the Holy Grail.

Her gradually increasing interest in her studies was expected, of course. So many had resisted their function, at first, but eventually saw reason. There was a certain undeniable pride, to excel at something, and Einzberns excelled at nearly everything they were intended to. Of greater importance, Illyasviel's interest was accompanied by a sudden desire to spend time with her grandfather. This was allowed and encouraged, because it served two purposes.

It allowed Illyasviel to study him, and it allowed Elder Acht to study her studying of him. It could never be suggested that Illyasviel had any hope of deceiving him. Her every thought and act were carefully catalogued and analyzed for any hint of betrayal. And even then, so long as they stayed below an acceptable level of rebellion, she would not be discarded.

And she would not, under any circumstances, be allowed to do to them what her father had done.

Illyasviel learned a great deal from her grandfather, could not help but to do so. And, of course, there was much he did not teach her, would not teach her without excellent reason.

So when Illyasviel first requested training on the creation and manipulation of a bounded field, Elder Acht was naturally suspicious. He had no intention of handing her the keys to her prison. For just as the bounded field surrounding the Einzbern castle had prevented her father from returning for her, it would similarly prevent Illyasviel from escaping, should she ever attempt to do so. Illyasviel insisted that she had no interest in the bounded field surrounding the castle, and after extended observation, he judged that this was completely true. Her actual intent was something that surprised even he.

Illyasviel proposed that in order to accelerate her training, she be taught to create a temporary type of bounded field around herself, as a sort of prison. The idea was to divide her power into two uneven portions: the larger portion would compose the field, and the remaining smaller portion would sustain her until either the field collapsed on its own, or was broken from the outside, which Elder Acht was easily capable of. This would increase her endurance, and the length of time she could consistently use magic.

It was a very close thing: if Illyasviel had suggested the training as a way of teaching her to forcefully expel a field from within, Elder Acht would have punished her severely and forbidden the training. Even so, these training sessions were always carefully monitored, either personally by him or by a trusted subordinate. And in fact, Illyasviel often performed better when she knew she was being observed. She could not help this: she was an Einzbern, and they were meant, not just to excel, but to rub their superiority in the faces of others.

* * *

While she was awake, Rin Tohsaka did her very best to project a constant aura of confidence, maturity, and cheerfulness. Sometimes, she thought, most of that was even true. But only sometimes.

But this rarely applied when she was asleep. Then, Rin felt, her dreams served to remind her of what she actually was: a little girl trying her hardest to be grown-up, so that she would have left the pains of her childhood behind. Sadly, they were not childhood pains, they were simply pains that began in her childhood. When she got older, her father would still be dead, her mother would eventually join him, and Sakura would still be lost in darkness. Despite the fact that Rin knew exactly where Sakura was and who she was with, what else could that environment truthfully be called?

On this night, Rin dreamed of Sakura as she had once been: a tiny girl with brown hair and an innocent smile. A girl who existed only in Rin's dreams, now.

The two sisters stood on a grassy hill, staring up at the moon. There was a chill in the air, but neither minded it too much. There were far worse things.

Rin began, as always, with an apology. "I'm sorry, Sakura," she whispered, taking her sister's hand.

Sakura shook her head, then laid it against Rin's arm. "It's okay."

"You say that, but it isn't. It couldn't be."

"You want me to forgive you for not doing something that would have been impossible for you to accomplish alone. At best, you would have died. At worst, you would have ended up right beside me, and I would have to watch you drown as I did. That would be so much worse, nee-san."

"But we'd be _together_, Sakura!" Rin cried.

"If I couldn't save you, I'd rather we were apart." Sakura pulled her hand away. "You want so much to save me that you can't see the consequences of it. I love that you love me so blindly, but I _hate_ that you would throw your life away for me."

"You can't understand why I would?"

"There's no sense in both of us drowning. And I'm already in up to my neck. Stop trying to swim to me, and just get out of the water, nee-san. It's not abandonment, if I'm asking you to do it." Sakura paused. "But if you really want to do something for me..."

"Name it," Rin said at once.

"Save her, instead."

Rin didn't know who Sakura was talking about, but she knew that it amounted to the same thing: leaving Sakura on her own, to face the horrors of that house. "Sakura, no!"

Sakura was no longer listening. She bent down, and lifted something black out of the grass with both hands. "This is a gift for you, nee-san. We can't refuse to play the game. But you can cheat, if you know how." She pressed the object into Rin's hands.

"Sakura, wait!" Rin protested, but Sakura had vanished, leaving Rin holding the black object, which she now saw was an ancient harp. Carefully, she plucked one of the strings, and from the pleasing sound that emerged, decided it must be in excellent condition.

Then the colossal shadow fell over her, and the harp slipped from her hands.

Rin was not afraid as she turned. Even though the thing casting the shadow was tall enough to block out her sight of the moon. Even though it held what could only be an enormous sword in one hand.

Because Sakura had sent it. And Sakura would never do anything to hurt Rin.

So when the thing reached out with a hand even larger than Rin, she did not run or cower. The hand seized her with impossible gentleness, and lifted her into the air, until she had a close-up view of the large, chiseled face, and the boulder-like eyes that brimmed with sorrow.

"Why are you so sad?" Rin asked softly, placing her hands against the hard armor that made up the thing's palm.

The thing opened its mouth. "Because you remind me of a daughter that I lost."

"I'm sorry. I lost my father, too."

"No matter what happens, I will protect you," the thing swore.

"Why?" Rin asked, genuinely curious.

"Your eyes say that you believe you deserve pain and unhappiness. But you are a child, and they deserve only one thing. Please wait for me, my Master."

When Rin opened her eyes the next morning, she could not recall the dream at all, if that was what it had been. But, for no reason that she could explain, she felt much safer. Almost as if her father was home again, though she knew that was impossible. It would be years before Rin began to seriously study dream interpretation, and longer still before she would recall the contents of this dream. But by the time she did, there would be no need to recall it. By then, she would be able to ask her Servant anything she needed to know about that first meeting.

* * *

**The Future and Forever King 3**

Rapidly, the darkness recovered from its encounter with the Heir of Arthur.

Not a defeat, however. The darkness was only temporarily delayed, at best.

The path remained, and it could just as easily be concealed again. And surely, the next Servant would not be so well prepared. Surely, not every Servant would or could carry their own army on their backs. Mordred had been an exception.

And so, the darkness began to prepare for its next assault.

But, its gaze drifted back towards the path, and that inviting light, beckoning so sweetly. It promised so much. And the darkness still had a promise to consider, itself.

Even now, it had not made a firm decision about Illyasviel's offer. It had thought to wait, until it captured and corrupted a Servant, or two, or more, before emerging in a more substantial form in that world. And then, perhaps it would use Illyasviel.

But that light. The darkness was drawn to it, as Mordred had been. Yes, the darkness could wait. Or, like Mordred, it could seize the opportunity without hesitation. And it had waited so very long, already.

Before the darkness could stop itself, it took a humanoid shape, and set foot on the path. It had no firmly defined features, but that could wait. It had meant to overtake Mordred, and Mordred had been unafraid. Like a king should be. So it must be the same, even greater.

"No fear."

The mouth, so unused to speaking, curved into a wicked grin. And then the dark form was running: to the light, to a world full of opportunity. And, for good or ill, to Illyasviel.

And if there had been something on that path to prevent the dark form, it would have mysteriously found itself evaded. For in acknowledging Mordred as a king, and more importantly, a king to be admired, the dark form had unknowingly joined Mordred's Noble Phantasm. Which meant, before and especially at this moment, there was simply no stopping it, now that it was on the same path as the Heir of Arthur.

* * *

_Some Time Later..._

"Sella, you may now enter."

Shifting her weight nervously, Sella carefully opened the door and stepped into the study.

She had never been there before. In her short time as a maid, she had only ever cleaned other parts of the castle. But she understood, as did all others in the Einzbern family, that Elder Acht was more than their employer or leader. In nearly every case, he was also their creator. And, if he determined there was a need for it, the one who would order their disposal.

Sella did not want to be disposed of. She had barely even begun to live. And she was too young to know it yet, but that fear was standard, for those like her. More than that, it would not be totally unfounded to suggest that Elder Acht created them with that fear already in place. Fear allowed one to be controlled, and if there was anything Elder Acht had become well-versed in, it was controlling his family.

Elder Acht was seated behind his desk. There was another person in front of the desk. From the similar style of dress to Sella's own, and the fact that they were not speaking, Sella assumed it was another maid. Most likely they were going to receive new assignments.

"From today forward," Elder Acht said, "you two will be working together. You will soon have a new assignment, and you will use this time to prepare yourselves for it."

Sella bowed her head in agreement. Elder Acht preferred silence in those beneath him.

Elder Acht's gaze moved to the other maid, who had not moved. "You should introduce yourself to Sella."

Sella turned and raised her eyes to the other maid, inhaling sharply. For a moment, and she could not explain why, but she had been seized by an enormous amount of pure fear upon looking into the other maid's red eyes. But that was silly: the other maid was a homunculus, just as Sella was, like so many other Einzberns. And the fact that they were both maids at least suggested that they shared equal status. There was no need to be afraid of her.

And yet... Sella could still feel goosebumps on her flesh as she nodded to the maid.

"I am now... Leysritt," the other maid said hesitantly. Not just as if she were unused to speaking, or had just learned to speak, but as if talking at all was an enormous effort, at least in her current form. It was... odd at the least, and unsettling at the most.

Elder Acht's usual frown deepened. "In the interest of success in this venture, we will be transparent, for now." He turned back to Sella. "You have no doubt sensed a certain wrongness in Leysritt. There are several reasons for this, but the most prominent one is the current topic of discussion. You are familiar with our history in general, and our performance in the Third Holy Grail War specifically."

Sella nodded, though she still had no idea how this related to Leysritt.

"Unforeseen circumstances have returned our former Servant to us, although not in the form of an actual Servant."

Sella's eyes widened, and, trembling with new fear, she turned back to Leysritt, who was staring at her calmly. "Then... you are... _him_? But _how_?!"

Elder Acht cleared his throat. "He refuses to explain that. He will only say that, for now, he is interested in observing Illyasviel's progress. And as this does not directly interfere with the plans I have in place for her, I will allow it. As a sign of good faith, I have also provided a more stable body for him to inhabit for the duration of his stay."

"It is clean," Leysritt noted, as if this had not been among the expectations.

"Sella, you will educate Leysritt," Elder Acht continued. "Having been away for so long, there is much she will find unfamiliar. Naturally, you will not reveal the-"

"True Name," Leysritt interrupted, then paused, and frowned. "No. Not anymore. Identity?"

Elder Acht simply nodded, and that, more than anything, convinced Sella that this was all truly happening. Who else could get away with interrupting Elder Acht without suffering immediate consequences?

"I am... forerunner," Leysritt continued. "No. Harbinger? Yes. _Harbinger_ of King. And so, your Servant selection has been fixed in advance."

Sella blinked and turned questioning eyes to Elder Acht, who appeared to be extremely grumpy about this.

"Apparently, his presence here means that our intended Berserker has been lost to us. Despite all the planning and effort, and our intention to summon early. Which we will still proceed with. But from everything he has said, it no longer matters which Class we attempt to summon from. The result is now set in stone."

Leysritt nodded. "I am proof. King's Noble Phantasm. Illyasviel _will_ be King's Master."

Sella frowned. She stared at Elder Acht, who nodded. "What do we know of this... King?"

"Only that his Noble Phantasm made this possible," Elder Acht replied. "But even that is no real help. And clearly, being King's harbinger includes keeping his secrets. Still, it speaks to the quality of his power, to make this possible. But there are too many variables, now. Obviously, we will keep the current relic safe. But I worry that someone else may be able to summon _that_ Berserker, even without the relic. And, too, King's presence may have greater impact than I currently suspect."

"Illyasviel will win." Leysritt spoke without a trace of doubt.

"You have not even met her yet. What is your basis for stating that?" Elder Acht asked.

Leysritt blinked. And then, with all of the confidence that only someone so closely associated with All the World's Evil could utter, spoke: "Because she is not just another Einzbern. She is Illyasviel, and she has King."

**End of Chapter 1.**

* * *

**Continued in Chapter 2: Three Families**

Kiritsugu approaches the Matou and Tohsaka families for aid. But each has their own conditions for helping, and it is hard to say whether Zouken's shrewdness or Rin's stubbornness is more impossible to deal with.

* * *

**Endnotes:**

What I initially liked most about Kiritsugu was his willingness to do anything to reach his goals. So it was hard for me to accept him failing to rescue Illya. Yes, he was traumatized, cursed, and weaker. All the more reason to get help. And even if he couldn't do it, I still find it very odd how little he told and taught Shirou. Even assuming Shirou would never be able to rescue Illya, I don't see how he was supposed to protect himself from her, or the two magus families within walking distance. At the very least, some instructions on how to tap into Avalon's power might have saved Shirou a lot of pain. Although I can see the wisdom in not telling such a stubborn kid that he's basically unkillable, he tried to get himself killed too much as it was. Still, if the goal was to keep Shirou safe and disconnected from magic, they really lived in the worst possible neighborhood for Shirou to know almost nothing about magic. Ironically, the best thing to do might have been to build a castle in the middle of nowhere and keep Shirou locked inside. Preferably with Taiga, so he never got bored.

So, this is just a personal gripe, but... I only have it in me to learn the proper names of so many Einzberns. Well, not really, but "Elder Acht" is just so much easier to recall. Sounds like a sneeze.

Rin's dream is just that, a dream. At this early point, Sakura isn't capable of manipulating events to the degree that she can impact Servant summoning so far in advance. But on the other hand, if someone else already had, and Rin were to end up with the same Servant from the dream, she wouldn't be able to tell the difference, and would assume her dream was prophetic. And she wouldn't necessarily be entirely wrong.

And now, the promised bios. Please note that if no Class Skills are listed, it means the Class hasn't been (correctly) announced yet.

* * *

**BIOS:**

**Mordred Pendragon**

_A.K.A.:_ The Heir of Arthur, Mo-san, The Future and Forever King

_History:_ The Heir of Arthur and the Knight of Treachery share similar origins, but the key difference is the actions of the king they admired. As distasteful as Arthur found Mordred's origin, in Mordred he saw a fellow victim of Morgan le Fay's schemes. The king believed the best way to suppress the darkness in the child was to recognize Mordred as heir. The gamble succeeded: Mordred pledged herself to the king. But Arthur said, "Pledge your sword not to me, but to the people. For you will one day be their king, not mine."

_Appearance:_ The Heir of Arthur is immediately distinguished from the Knight of Treachery by the pair of swords that are her birthright, and the lack of armor on her head. Having been formally recognized by Arthur, there is no longer a need to conceal her face.

_Personal Skills: _

**Charisma: B**  
Upon gaining the throne, Mordred's words gained greater power to change hearts. Where Arthur had the people's faith but not their love, Mordred has their complete trust and devotion. Those who see her back cannot help but feel the urge to follow. Mordred's Charisma is boosted to this rank by rightful possession of Clarent.

**Instinct: B**  
The combination of genes and training from both Arthur and Morgan resulted in a body that constantly improves and excels under battle conditions.

**Mana Burst: A**

**Battle Continuation: B**

**Precipice Pedigree: B**  
Mordred's stellar potential, both as a fierce leader and a destructive tool, dwells just beneath the surface at all times. She can temporarily seal her first three Noble Phantasms in order to gain access to either of the final two. Doing so severely drains her power at a rapid rate, requiring an extensive recovery period.

_Noble Phantasms:_

**1) Clarent, the Witch-Queen's Wrath: B-A **

Stained in Morgan le Fay's lifeblood, the sword was immediately granted the secondary ability to "violently shatter anything magical". Its signature attack is Crimson Obliteration, an enormous release of mana that supposedly destroys anything labeled a target within Mordred's sight-line. Mordred uses scaled down versions (Crimson Lightning and Crimson Storm) to conserve mana, for sparring, or when facing lesser foes. Clarent serves as both the proof of Arthur's recognition, as well as the sacrifice that Mordred made to gain it. Because Clarent was first stolen by Mordred, but returned to Arthur, who then granted it to Mordred, the sword has its full power (and Charisma boost) in Mordred's hands. Yet it also bears traces of Morgan's will, and so it is truly double-edged, especially in Mordred's hands.

**2) Caliburn, the Pendragon's Claw: Rank Varies **

Reforged with Mordred's own blood, it is now an ever-evolving sword that grows through battle alongside its intended wielder. It absorbs strengths and rejects weaknesses, so that a second clash always results in defeat for the opposing weapon. Despite its great power, Mordred prefers not to use it, both out of fear of it breaking once more, and emotional attachment: the sword was a gift that Arthur presented at Mordred's coronation. Where Clarent represents Mordred's journey from Knight of the Round to King, Caliburn represents the completion of that journey, and the start of Mordred's quest to surpass Arthur as a leader.

**3) Pride Upon My Back: Rank Varies**

Mordred firmly believed that a king must bear the weight of their kingdom on his back. But where Arthur saw this as standing alone as a shield, Mordred sees it as charging into battle with both the kingdom's hopes, and any willing to fight and die with their king. As such, any who views Mordred as king, and wishes to follow her path, is free to do so, ignoring any restrictions that would prevent them from doing so, save one: they require Mordred's consent to manifest. This effectively gives Mordred access to an unseen army, though only she knows the exact size and quality of it. The ranking and number of Servants who can be summoned at any time is usually proportional to both Mordred's remaining mana and the quality of her Master, but there are Servants who can alter this restriction...

* * *

**Jack the Ripper, Hound of the Pendragons **

_A.K.A.:_ Doggy

_Class:_ Assassin

_History and Appearance:_ Jack the Ripper and the Knight of Treachery clashed in another world. But the echoes of that encounter somehow live on in Jack, who cannot forget the fearless, fanged grin that sent chills of excitement down Jack's spine. And because the form that first met Mordred was lost, Jack now has a new favorite: that of Mordred's younger sister, if she'd ever had one. Still a legendary serial killer, but now a faithful pet to the Heir of Arthur.

_Class Skills: _

**Presence Concealment: A+**

_Personal Skills: _

**Murderer of the Misty Night: A**

**Surgical Procedure: E**

**Faceless and Formless: B [replaces Information Erasure]**  
Jack's form is as ever-changing and ill-defined as the mist she deploys. Though she has preferences, her form could easily be drastically different each time she appears (for who has seen the face of Jack the Ripper, and lived to tell of it?), and is not necessarily limited to humanoid shapes. Only those either intimately familiar with her, or possessing superior detection skills, would be able to see through her shapeshifting immediately and without fail.

**A Faithful Hound: B [replaces Mental Pollution]**  
Having sworn to serve Mordred's family, all of Jack's stats are slightly boosted when fighting alongside a Pendragon, but are lowered by the same degree when fighting against one. This effect is based entirely on Jack's perception of the target, rather than actual blood ties.

_Noble Phantasms: _

**Maria the Ripper: D-B**

**The Mist: C**


	3. The Three Families

Notes: More Servants are introduced this chapter, most of which should be easily recognizable, even if their True Names aren't provided. Their respective Classes may be a bit harder to pin down... although probably not so much in this first case.

* * *

**Oathkeepers**  
**A Fate Series Fusion by**  
**Nate Grey (xman0123-at-aol-dot-com)**  
**Chapter 2: The Three Families**

* * *

**The Path of Blood 1**

It was not the Throne of Heroes, but, she had decided, it likely served the same purpose and function. Just... for others. Like her.

She had never seen any Heroic Spirits there, at least. And she was grateful for that.

The ones who lurked there were not heroes, nor very heroic, in most cases. It should have allowed her to fit in, but it only made her feel more alone.

Her elder sisters were not there. They couldn't be. Perhaps they had reached the Throne of Heroes, due to their brave sacrifice. She could never be with them again, would never deserve to be with them again. It wasn't about that, though. If they desired to see her, forgiveness wouldn't matter. Their acceptance had always been immediate, if only so they could quickly move on to the teasing. How she missed even that.

In this place, there was only one who accepted her without hesitation or question. And she would have given anything for that not to be the case. But, when the alternative was being entirely alone... that was something she wasn't sure she could bear again. And, after all, being reminded ceaselessly of the monster she had been, and would become again... maybe it was for the best.

But then she was chosen. And it changed nothing.

"You'll still become me, little one," the Other warned her. "I am the penultimate step in our fated journey. Resistance will do you no good."

"I cannot accept that," she decided. "I will change this cursed fate of mine."

The Other sighed. "You may choose to believe that. But when you realize that I was right, try not to be too shocked. I was always your fate. For good or ill."

"Ill," she said, firmly.

A small smirk played at the Other's lips. "Go, then. And one last piece of advice: never underestimate humans. They will always manage to surprise you, and in the worst possible ways."

She stared at the Other for a long moment, then offered a quick bow, hurrying away only after she felt the Other's hair brush gently against her cheek. It wasn't truly necessary to be so wary: there was no danger there, not for her. The Other, out of fierce pride and mercilessness, had come to accept being alone... but to suggest that had always been a preference, was a mistake. They both would have given anything, to see their loved ones again. But she wasn't too proud to admit it.

She thought she was ready: to be among humans again, to deal with their greed and cruelty.

But then she heard the words that chilled her like little else had before: "...trapped in a cage of madness..."

"No," she whispered in horror. "Please, no... not _again_... never again!"

There was no response, and even if there had been, she could not hear it over the rising roar that filled her ears, eyes, body and soul. And by the time she realized that ceaseless, inhuman roar was coming from her own mouth, she was already coated in gore, precious blood was smeared across her lips, the fool of a Master whose name she would never learn was dead beneath her, and it was far too late for so many things.

And, as if from very far away, the Other's voice sighed and murmured, "I did warn you, little one." Then that, too, was lost in the haze of blood and fury.

* * *

Shirou's training didn't begin at all the way he thought it would. He expected to start with some sort of spell.

Instead, Kiritsugu first taught him a hundred different ways to kill a person.

Shirou had understood, on some level, that people would die, and that Kiritsugu and he would be the cause of it. But actually being taught to kill them was something he hadn't been prepared for. And Kiritsugu, having sensed that, made it lesson one.

Just as concerning, Kiritsugu seemed extremely knowledgeable on the specifics of creating a child soldier. Almost as if he had been trained as one. Or he had trained one previously. Or quite possibly both.

Several times, Shirou asked if the Einzberns were really bad people, if they had done anything to deserve death beyond holding Illya hostage. Kiritsugu's response was short and rather telling: "They aren't really people."

Shirou had at first thought that meant they were inhuman monsters, and to a degree, they were. But Kiritsugu had actually meant that they didn't think like people. In part because the guiding force behind them had centuries of practice not being a person, so it wasn't as if any of them had a choice in the matter, or much of a chance to learn how to be people.

What really mattered to Shirou is that they would look and die like people, and that was true enough. And so long as it was true, he would need this training. Walking among the dead was hard enough. Knowing he was responsible for their deaths... that would take some getting used to.

* * *

Wise people did not conduct business with Zouken Matou in person. It was not recommended for a wide variety of reasons. Even those who had no magical awareness whatsoever could often detect a wrongness in his voice, his face, his movement, his very existence. It was best not to be exposed directly to such a wrongness, if it could be prevented.

Of course, there were those who saw nothing but a harmless old man, and had no problem interacting with him. They tended not to last long. Idiots made the best worm food. Their not knowing anything made their terror as they died all the sweeter.

At any rate, of those who especially did not meet with Zouken in person were mages from outside of his family. So when Kiritsugu Emiya not only requested a face-to-face meeting, but also brought his adopted son along, Zouken was far more amused than he was wary. But, of course, he was wary all the same. For those in the know, Kiritsugu had earned a legendary nickname.

The Man Who Burned the World.

It was a complete exaggeration: he'd only burned a small portion of the world. But the power of the Holy Grail was such that he easily could have burned the entire world, if that had been his intent, or even if it hadn't been. And so the nickname stuck. But even before that, Kiritsugu had been a very dangerous man, and to mages in particular. He would have had to put in a great deal more effort to kill Zouken, but it wasn't impossible, so Zouken's wariness was well-earned.

"What could be the reason, I wonder, for the infamous Kiritsugu Emiya to darken my doorstep?" Zouken asked, gauging the reactions of his guests.

The boy, he noted, frowned slightly.

Kiritsugu merely bowed his head as he responded. "With the greatest respect, Matou-san, I do not think it at all possible for myself, or indeed any person, to darken any doorstep belonging to you. The very idea suggests that it would be possible to kill Death, burn Hell, or illuminate Heaven."

Zouken threw back his head and laughed, louder and longer than he had in some time. "I've revised my opinion of you just a bit, Emiya. I think I could learn to like you." He chuckled, then let the humor fade from his expression, leaving only a dark scowl in its place. "Again: what is the reason for your visit?"

"As I mentioned earlier, I have a business proposition for you. One I hope that you will find to your liking. But to avoid wasting your time any further, let me confirm whether you have any interest in the first part of my proposal. Would you ever consider allowing me to purchase some of your worms?"

Zouken did not laugh again, which was arguably a good sign. Nor did his scowl deepen, also a good sign. No reaction at all was perhaps the best result that Kiritsugu could have hoped for.

"You are a man of some renown, Emiya. I cannot imagine that you lack basic knowledge of etiquette, and specific knowledge of my clan. So you must be aware that an outsider requesting such a thing might be considered by myself to be the height of rudeness. And I have killed for smaller offenses. But I also cannot imagine you would propose this to me with money as the only enticement."

"You are correct, of course. I have a larger proposal in mind, but I cannot deny that your willingness to provide me with some of your worms is at the heart of the matter. If you are unwilling, there is no point in discussing this further. I will happily compensate you for wasting your time, and for any offense you felt from the offer."

Zouken considered what little he had been told for a long moment. Finally, he cleared his throat. "I admit that my curiosity will not allow me to end this visit so soon. I would first hear the rest of the proposal. Starting with what you could possibly desire my worms for. I assume you are somewhat aware of the negative consequences of using them?"

"I know they are not intended for general use, but for specific and often desperate situations. I find myself in such a situation. I'm sure you're aware of my former relationship with the Einzberns. That relationship produced a daughter, and she is being kept from me. It is my intention to take her from the Einzberns with any and all force required. I strongly suspect I will need to annihilate them. I will need a great deal more power than I currently possess to do that."

"And so you come to me." Zouken grinned. "I cannot deny that the Einzberns being slaughtered greatly appeals to me. But surely you realize that if you used enough of my worms to grant the power that you seek, you might, at best, either kill your child in the attempt, or only have a week or two with her before your body destroyed itself."

"Either would be kinder than leaving things as they are," Kiritsugu replied. "But I want it understood that I am not seeking only your aid in this venture. I will draw upon whatever resources I must in order to succeed."

"You'll go to the Tohsakas next, then? I think you will find their aid to be lacking, but I will not prevent it. However, that does present a unique opportunity. I am not opposed to providing my worms, if we can agree on a fair price. But I would first have you swear that you will eliminate every Einzbern other than your daughter."

"I suspected that would be one term of our contract, and I agree to it. Allow me to propose two more. First, if I should require the use of a Servant for this venture, I swear that they will only be used for this venture, that they will not compete in the Holy Grail War, and that upon the completion of my venture, I will use any remaining Command Seals to order that Servant to take their own life. Second, I swear to you that no Emiya will ever seek to obtain the Holy Grail again. And should they be chosen as a Master, they would only use their Servants for outside ventures."

Zouken nodded. "I would be more impressed if you swore loyalty to me, but keeping your family out of the Holy Grail War is acceptable. But if you would have me believe that you are a man of your word, which I have much reason to doubt, then you must prove it to me. Go to the Tohsakas. If you can bring me back specific proof of their aid, then you will have mine as well. And one more thing. If you fail to honor the terms-"

"Then my son will honor them in my place. I am not so foolish as to not have accounted for my possible death in this venture."

Zouken took a moment to observe the boy. At first glance, he was not training to be a magus yet. But he was clearly training to be something, because he was on high alert, and had been since he first entered Zouken's gaze. And surely, if the boy was meant to carry on the work of a magus, he would become one at some point.

And if not, and he didn't honor his father's wishes... he would be that much easier for Zouken to kill. So that was fine either way.

* * *

There were two reasons that Kiritsugu had not gone to the Tohsakas first.

The first was that the current head of the Tohsaka family, Rin, was still a child, and there would be no recovering from the offense that Zouken would have taken from her being approached ahead of him.

The second was that Rin, being both a child and a family head, by now would have had her fill of adults underestimating her. So it was not a good idea for Kiritsugu to negotiate with her directly.

It had to be Shirou. He and Rin were of similar age, she was of higher social standing, and it would be immediately obvious that he was new to the world of magic, which she had been studying in for years. There was no way for her to feel inferior to him, and giving her the position of power was vital for negotiation.

But perhaps Kiritsugu did underestimate Rin on some level, because he was surprised when she insisted on meeting at his house. He could only imagine that she wanted to prove her bravery by meeting on what was arguably enemy territory. Even more surprising, she arrived on foot, without any sort of escort or bodyguard. No matter how skilled she may have been, at that point, Kiritsugu was entirely convinced that her pride had outweighed her common sense. Which was less a flaw in his eyes, and more another way he could exploit her.

* * *

Shirou liked to think of himself as a person who did not judge people until he had gotten a chance to know them.

He disliked Rin, to a startling degree, within the first few seconds of meeting her. It had nothing to do with her appearance: she was cute, and her style of dress suggested that she had been raised to be a proper young lady. It also had nothing to do with her speech: it was not quite as refined as he would have expected, though perhaps that had more to do with the present company.

No, what really bugged Shirou about Rin was that she completely ignored him. Which was going to make his negotiating with her extremely difficult, since she kept glaring at Kiritsugu, who had assured Shirou that he would not speak unless there was no other option. This would be Shirou's battle to win or lose. It looked as if he would be fighting uphill from the start.

"Are you really 'the Man Who Burned the World?'" was the first thing that Rin asked. Well, it came out as more of a demand, or at least a very clear suggestion that she would not be satisfied, or allow the meeting to proceed, until the question was answered.

"He's been called that," Shirou answered. "My name-"

"I came to talk to him. _You_ can just be quiet, little boy."

Shirou opened his mouth to respond with a scathing word or two, but caught himself when he felt Kiritsugu's gaze on his back. Nodding to himself, he cleared his throat and began. "No, _you_ can just be quiet, little girl, while I explain to you exactly how this works. For the duration of this meeting, I am speaking for Kiritsugu Emiya. If you don't like it, you can leave and miss out on a deal that might have restored your family's name to its former glory."

Rin looked furious, then impressed, then resigned, all in the space of a few seconds. Shirou briefly felt pity for her, this was a lot for any kid to have to deal with. But then he reminded himself that she was a brat, and the moment passed.

"Fine, but there are some questions I want answered right away," Rin snapped. "First of all, who are you?"

"I'm Shirou, Kiritsugu's son."

"Why was I told not to inform Kirei of this meeting?"

Shirou frowned. "Did you want to tell him?"

Rin snorted. "No! But I still want to know why that was specifically stated."

"There is bad blood between him and Kiritsugu. At best, your guardian would have refused to allow the meeting. At worst, he would have tried to kill us. Is that going to be an issue for you?"

"That depends on your answer to my next question. Did Kiritsugu kill my father?"

Shirou was startled by her boldness in asking that. "No."

"Does he know who did?"

"No," Shirou repeated.

"Does he even care?"

"Yes. He and your father were Masters. So while he didn't kill your father, it was only because someone else, likely another Master, beat him to it. That's the kind of battle the Holy Grail War is. So blame the puppet-master, not the puppets. If you fail to do that, then you've become a puppet yourself, and you're only ensuring that the puppet-master has more puppets to work with."

Rin glared at him. "I'm no puppet! And while I have no reason to believe anything that you say, you don't seem like a bad person." She glanced at Kiritsugu. "And I guess if someone had bad dealings with Kirei, then they probably aren't a bad person, either."

Shirou really didn't understand the relationship between Rin and her guardian, and it was becoming less clear by the second. He and Kiritsugu had not always agreed on everything, but he had never felt the apparent hatred towards him that Rin seemed to feel for her own guardian. But, since she wasn't overly attached to Kirei, that would likely work in their favor.

"So, what is this offer I was told about?" Rin asked.

Shirou nodded, glad to finally get to the matter at hand. "I don't know how much you know about Kiritsugu's relationship with Einzberns-"

"I know he represented them in the previous Holy Grail War, and that they had a falling out."

"He actually married into the family. His wife died during the Holy Grail War, and her last wish was for him to raise their daughter. A daughter that the Einzberns, in their anger at Kiritsugu, have kept from him. Our goal is to rescue her, but to do that, we need help."

Rin frowned. "I can appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't see how I would be of much help to you."

"The Einzberns are prepared for anything that Kiritsugu could do on his own. What they would never expect is for him to have the backing of another family."

"Well, of course not! The last time a family backed him, he betrayed them!"

"If he hadn't, the Einzberns would have obtained the Holy Grail, and the world might not exist as we know it today."

"Even so, you haven't given me any reason to believe the same thing won't happen again."

"I can do that right now," Shirou replied. "We have a tentative contract with the Matous, provided that we can secure your assistance as well."

"I cannot even begin to stress how much being in bed with the Matous is really not a point in your favor," Rin said bluntly.

"As part of our contract, we agreed that no Emiya would ever again seek the Holy Grail. So there is no chance of what happened before, happening again. More importantly, we are asking you to sponsor us in rescuing Kiritsugu's daughter, not the Holy Grail War. Failure is completely unacceptable to us, as is the continued existence of the Einzberns. Betraying you would in no way benefit us, while your assisting us can only benefit you."

"How do you figure that?"

"We are prepared to offer you three conditions for a contract. First, if at any point you are satisfied with the quality of my magic, I will marry into the Tohsaka family, and contribute any and all techniques of the Emiya family to the Tohsaka magical crest."

Rin gaped at him. "Are you crazy?! You can't do that! It would effectively erase your family's magical lineage!"

"No, it would combine our lineage with yours, and ensure that it survives in some form, even if under the Tohsaka name. That is preferable to it dying out entirely, which is a real possibility. In any case, you stand to gain a wealth of magical knowledge that you do not yet possess."

Rin pursed her lips, unable to deny that. "What's the next condition?"

"That you agree to treat Kiritsugu's daughter as your sworn sister, including adopting her into your family if she so desires."

Again, Rin could not deny that this was a plus. True, she knew nothing about the girl, but as an Einzbern, the girl was guaranteed to be powerful. Better to have her as an ally than an enemy. "And the third condition?"

Shirou sighed. "The Matous will only agreed to aid us, if you consent to the creation of a joint secondary magical crest, with contributions from the Emiya, Matou, and Tohsaka families, which would be applied to me as soon as it is proven stable."

"Absolutely not!" Rin cried. "I would never allow them to get their hands on my family's magic!"

Shirou produced two photos from his pocket and handed them to Rin. "I was told that they already have a fair amount of it."

Rin froze, and then her eyes narrowed. The first photo was of Sakura Tohsaka, as she had been. The second was of Sakura Matou, as she was now. "Be careful what you say about her, Shirou," Rin hissed.

"I am only suggesting that Sakura may not have had a choice in what secrets the Matous extracted from her body. You can surely tell just by looking at her that she has been changed on even the cellular level. I can appreciate your desire to protect your family lineage, but even without access to your magical crest, Sakura was born into your family. Her body itself is a gateway into the Tohsaka lineage."

"Which is exactly why I don't want those monsters gaining any more of it!" Rin snapped. "They've already taken my precious little sister!"

"Maybe they haven't."

Both Rin and Shirou turned to Kiritsugu, who cleared his throat before speaking again.

"You have every right to fear what the Matous could potentially do with your family's magic, Rin. And there is nothing we can offer you that will dismiss that fear. But perhaps we can give you something that makes that possibility an acceptable risk."

"What did you have in mind?" Rin asked softly.

* * *

"We have secured the Tohsaka's agreement, Matou-san. We may now begin the creation of the joint secondary magical crest."

Zouken chuckled into the phone. "I see. Tell me, did you enjoy manipulating such a headstrong and foolish child, Emiya?"

"Actually, she was quite resourceful. I neglected to mention that she demanded a few conditions of her own."

"Oh, really? And what does the illustrious and wise Tohsaka clan head desire?"

"Effective immediately, I am required to hold weekly lectures on the foundations of magic. The students will be my own son, Rin Tohsaka, and Sakura Matou."

The smile slid off of Zouken's face.

"Of course, if I am to ensure that Sakura has fully grasped what I am teaching, she must be able to pass practical tests. So she must be able to perform magic in my presence."

It was all Zouken could do to not grind his teeth. As a rule, Sakura could not generally perform magic, both because what she'd been taught was purposely limited, and the crest worms within her body devoured all excess mana in her before she could cast a spell. So to meet Rin's terms, Zouken would either have to remove the worms, which definitely wasn't happening, or ensure that they remained dormant while Sakura was attending the lectures, which was doable but annoying, in that he simply didn't want to do it.

And in addition to that, it would mean an increase in the frequency that Rin and Sakura interacted with each other. In itself, this was not a problem, but under Kiritsugu's supervision, and with Zouken's control over Sakura drastically reduced because of the worms' dormancy, there were countless opportunities for Rin to interfere with Sakura's development.

All of which was exactly what Rin had demanded as her own condition. The only thing that would make the risk of losing her family's magic worthwhile, was the possibility of regaining her sister in the process.

But in the end, Zouken agreed. It was a calculated risk, and really, much to his benefit. The worms in Sakura had already grown enough where they could act as his eyes and ears, even while dormant. It would not matter what additional knowledge Sakura gained from the lectures, because the worms would prevent any magic use at all other times, unless directed by him. And any hope Sakura gained from contact with Rin could be snuffed out later, which would surely break her spirit even faster than Zouken had planned. So if anything, Rin was doing him a favor by setting up and accelerating the means of Sakura's eventual demise.

* * *

**Sons of Thunder 1**

"OIIII! OJI-SAAAAAAAAN!"

The giant of a man opened his eyes, the dark muscles of his body rippling as he slowly sat up. The one who had called out to him was speeding across the landscape like a bullet, smoke and disturbed ground left in their passage. Perhaps, if the giant had been in a better mood, he might have smirked at the sight, which admittedly did amuse him, from time to time. Now, however, he only wanted to be left alone. But, sensing it would not be that easy, he stood up and waited.

An instant later, the shouter came to an abrupt stop before the giant. It was hard to say what the giant found less appealing just then, the smoke now rising before his face, or the huge grin stretched across the shouter's face.

"Hey, oji-san, guess what!" the shouter said eagerly, nearly bouncing in place. "I've been chosen!"

The giant blinked. "Congratulations." He started to sit back down.

"No, wait wait wait! You, too! We both have!"

The giant froze. "I see," he said after a long moment.

"Aw, come on!" the shouter complained, thoroughly disappointed with the giant's reaction. "This is awesome! We're both going to war!"

The giant frowned. "And is war something you so eagerly look forward to, boy?"

"Well, no, but you know this isn't just any war! It's the Holy Grail War! Don't you understand what that means?!"

"Why don't you tell me what you think it means?" the giant asked wearily.

The shouter grinned, his golden eyes gleaming. "It means you don't get to hide behind your oath anymore, oji-san. You and me, we're finally going to mix it up, and see who the better fighter is! Or, are you telling me that you've given up before things even get started?"

The giant frowned thoughtfully. "I will do what I must, for my Master's sake. But I will not break my oath. So don't get your hopes up, boy."

"Say what you want. I'm still taking you down, oji-san." The shouter's grin widened. "Only, I'll make sure to do it gently, so you don't throw out your hip or anything..."

The giant's eyes shone with barely suppressed fury. "Leave me."

The shouter backed off a few steps. "This isn't over, oji-san. You remember what I said."

"About my hip? Trust me, I shall never forget it."

"No, not that!" the shouter snapped impatiently. "We'll fight, and I will win! I swear on my blood! The day is fast approaching when the son of Peleus shall triumph over the son of Zeus himself! And when it gets here, you will admit that I'm the best!"

The giant shook his head. "Believe whatever you feel you must, young Achilles."

"I believe that you're afraid," Achilles said boldly.

The giant stared at him. "I believe you are correct. And before you get too excited, you aren't what I'm afraid of."

They stared at each other for a long moment.

"I don't break so easily, oji-san," Achilles said softly.

"Part of you does," the giant countered.

"Don't you dare use that as an excuse! I don't let my weakness stop me! But you do!"

"Our weaknesses are not the same."

"Yeah. Because mine doesn't make me weak."

The giant closed his eyes. "You know my oath. Do not test me further, Achilles."

"Yeah, you've had enough for now. But when you and I are the last Servants in the Holy Grail War, you'll have to do something. And if you run away, I'll never let you forget it! I would rather you kill me than shame the gods, sensei, and yourself that way!"

"Honor is not my concern. A good thing, too, since you seem to care enough for both of us. And the Chiron that I remember would not hesitate to applaud me for thinking carefully before raising my fists. Now, I won't say it again. Leave me, Achilles."

For a second, it looked like Achilles would refuse. Finally, he turned away. "I just don't get you, oji-san. You were a legend. And I wanted, more than anything, to surpass you. But now... I'm so afraid that I already have. And what will I have to look forward to, if that's true?"

* * *

The man had just finished his dinner when his phone rang. He considered not answering, then brushed that thought aside. It could be a business opportunity, since he had very few friends.

The voice on the other end was definitely not a friend, but only because the things they had seen and done together made them more fellow conspirators than anything else.

"Sorry to disturb your evening with Honey, but I need you again."

"Emiya, huh? What the hell do you want?"

"I'm calling in a favor. And don't pretend that you don't owe me."

"You introduced me to my Honey, I don't forget that. So, what is it? You in need of some of my special inventory?"

"No, I need the expertise of your day job. I'm making an appointment for my son. I've started training him, and I'll need a series of crest transplants for him."

"How would that work? Your kid is adopted and not even close to being related by blood. The odds that he could handle your crest are pretty slim. And then there's your... condition to consider. Which may not be contagious, but I wouldn't risk it."

"I plan to increase the odds of success, and avoid that risk, with your help."

"Oh, so then you do need my special inventory. That stuff isn't cheap, as you well know."

"I do indeed know. Considering that you only have most of it because of me, I expect a major discount."

"You cheap little-!"

"What does Honey say about this?"

"Fine! But after this, YOU owe ME, got it?!"

"Then I'll be counting on you once again, Sisigou."

"Go screw yourself, Emiya." He slammed the phone down, then turned apologetically to the silent figure on the other side of the room. "Sorry, Honey. You know how I get when Emiya calls."

There was no response from the white-haired woman seated at the table.

"Yeah, you're right. I know you have a soft spot for him, but you can't let him get away with murder all of the time."

Again, there was no response from the woman, but Sisigou laughed as if there had been, and stroked her cheek fondly as he went to dig up his medical bag.

* * *

"Why do we have to go in here again?" Shirou complained as they stood on the front porch of Sisigou's home office. "This old guy is creepy."

"That's not a very nice thing to say about one of my associates," Kiritsugu murmured. "He's saved my life a few times. Almost as much as he's endangered it, honestly. That sort of makes him a friend. Anyway, he's a doctor, and more importantly, included in his fee is the promise to never ask the questions that people like us would have trouble answering in a normal hospital."

"Magic questions?" Shirou guessed.

"Among others, yes."

"Well, if he's a doctor, how come he lives in a mortuary?"

"Ah. Well, it's more accurate to say that he was a doctor. But he decided that he was more comfortable as a mortician."

"Does anybody ever really decide that?" Shirou asked with a sidelong glance.

Kiritsugu avoided meeting his son's gaze. "Sure. You just don't hear about it too often."

"But, you do realize that treating a mortician as a doctor isn't exactly reassuring for the one who is going to be his patient, right? I mean, what if he gets the two jobs mixed up and decides that I'm supposed to be dead?"

Kiritsugu laughed. "If anything, he treats the dead like they're still alive. The living just annoy him. And you're proving why he prefers the dead right now. They don't insult him."

"Okay, but what about his wife?" Shirou demanded. "You can't tell me that's normal!"

"Shirou, you know I keep a photo of my late wife in my bedroom. Sometimes, I talk to it. Is that so strange?"

"No, but it's a little different if her corpse is sitting at the kitchen table."

Kiritsugu sighed. "Honey isn't dead-"

"Then she needs to wear a sign that says so!" Shirou hissed, just as the door opened.

Sisigou eyed them both with obvious dislike. "In," he ordered.

They followed him inside. He shut the door firmly behind them, locked it, and then drew a number of deadbolts across it.

"Is that to keep people out, or in?" Shirou asked.

Sisigou paused. "Either, now that I think about it. Lose the shirt so we can get started, kid. And don't you dare be rude to my Honey again."

Shirou turned uncomfortably, staring at the woman seated at the kitchen table. He wanted very much not to look at her, but knew that at least she couldn't look back at him. He glanced at Kiritsugu, who nodded, and hesitantly approached the woman. "Good evening, Honey. We won't take up too much of your husband's time, so please excuse us."

There was no response.

Kiritsugu joined him, lightly touching the woman's shoulder. "Hello, Honey. I hope you're feeling well today."

There was no response.

After a moment, Kiritsugu gestured Shirou into the next room, which contained an exam table. Shirou immediately didn't like it, because he strongly suspected it had never been in a hosptial, but had seen the inside of quite a few mortuaries. He took off his shirt and handed it to Kiritsugu.

Sisigou entered a moment later, wearing black gloves and looking slightly less annoyed, now firmly in his element. He poked and prodded Shirou for a few minutes, jotted down some notes on a pad, and then glanced at Kiritsugu. "Where do you want the crest?"

Kiritsugu handed Sisigou a sealed envelope.

Now annoyed again, Sisigou opened it, read the contents, and snorted. "No way you're getting all of this for free. I don't care how much you think I owe you, or how much I love my Honey."

Kiritsugu produced a sealed cylindrical container.

Sisigou grunted. "Is that the Matou-?"

Kiritsugu nodded. "I was promised I could have more, if I needed them."

"You need more," Sisigou said at once.

"You mean, you do," Kiritsugu corrected.

"No, as far as old man Matou is concerned, YOU need more. Which you will then provide to me. Big difference."

"If you say so. Can you handle all of this?"

"Can you afford all of this?" Sisigou countered.

"Of course. I would have brought more to exchange, if I couldn't."

* * *

The wolves knew how the game was played by now. They never seemed to get tired of playing, or losing.

The bounded field collapsed at noon each time. And it was vital that it collapsed, instead of being forcefully expelled from within. That, while it would have made the overall challenge easier, would have alerted Elder Acht to the true direction of Illyasviel's thoughts, and that could not be allowed yet.

To be fair, the wolves had not always lost. Early on, when Illyasviel was not so sure of herself, there had been some very close calls. And part of her wondered, if Elder Acht truly would have let her die that way, only to then completely abandon any further attempts at the Holy Grail. It just seemed like such a waste. She wouldn't have even minded so much if he had a backup clone of her stashed somewhere, so long as the entire project wasn't a total waste of time.

But Elder Acht had never intervened, even when Illyasviel had been sure she was going to be torn apart.

So Leysritt had. In such a way that made Illyasviel question if even her would-be killers deserved such horrific treatment. Tearing the wolves apart, or beating them senseless, Illyasviel would have expected, and possibly even enjoyed, if in the right mood. But she had never managed to find any amusement in watching the wolves die slowly, riddled with oozing sores and bulging tumors. Perhaps because she understood the real intent was neither to merely kill the wolves, nor even to punish them for causing Illyasviel harm.

It was to curse them to death, and to draw delight from their suffering.

At any rate, repeated encounters had taught Illyasviel some important things.

She was not an animal lover, at least, not if those animals were trying to kill her.

Illyasviel could create familiars from her hair. No one but Leysritt informed her that her mother had been capable of a similar technique. Leysritt had also admitted, reluctantly, that the above average aim that seemd to occur naturally in Illyasviel was likely inherited from her father. That, at least, explained why Elder Acht was especially perturbed when he watched Illyasviel during her target practice with Zelle. And as it was already in Illyasviel's genetics, rather than part of a magic crest that had not yet been applied to her, there was little he could do about removing it at this stage, without serious drawbacks. And besides, the only real reason to remove it would have been a purely emotional one. Strategically, it only made sense that Illyasviel represented the best of the union between Kiritsugu Emiya and the Einzberns. Even if none of the Einzberns cared to admit that.

The moment the bounded field was down, and Illyasviel was revealed, the wolves charged.

A trio of bird-shaped constructs, Zelle, rose to meet the charge, mowing down the wolves with a spray of energy blasts. For the few targets who managed to get past that, a fourth construct, Degen, which constantly shifted form between a short dagger and a longsword, patrolled the open space between the other three constructs and Illyasviel, aiming solely for vital points and never missing. Illyasviel herself did not move, her eyes flitting back and forth. Once given life, each construct would act on its own, using watered-down versions of her own judgment as their will, unless she overrode them with new commands.

Suddenly, the exercise was ended: the throat of the final wolf still present was slashed open, the few still alive had fled, and the constructs faded into nothingness once all opponents were gone. Illyasviel took a moment to survey the bloodied snow at her feet, then slowly made her way up the hill, where Sella and Leysritt awaited her.

Sella was full of praise, as usual, and Illyasviel ignored it, as usual.

Leysritt said nothing, having eyes only for the carnage, and that she was drawn to it was enough like praise to Illyasviel. Their eyes eventually met, and it was Illyasviel who offered her hand first. After a moment, Leysritt carefully grasped the hand.

Sella frowed, because she understood what that brief contact meant. When nearly anything else organic that Leysritt touched either exploded or died horribly or withered away, that Illyasviel could touch her without fear meant a great deal. But only for Illyasviel, and everyone else would do well to retain their instinctive fear and disgust of the entity living in Leysritt's body.

As for Sella, she could only bear witness to what could only be an unholy contract. There could be no other kind, for the thing wearing Leysritt. Just as there could be no other kind, for any who had sworn allegiance to it.

* * *

"Come back in two weeks," Sisigou ordered. "If the kid's adjusting well, I can try the next part of the operation."

"Is that long enough for me to heal up completely from this one?" Shirou asked, wincing as he touched his side. He was already not a fan of walking around bandaged up like a mummy. And he suspected that part of that was due primarily to Sisigou's preference. No one had bothered to explain why an operation near his ribs required his whole back to be bandaged as well.

"No," Sisigou said bluntly. "But that's the point. You've got some impressive self-healing. And so does your organ donor. But this is a series of transplants, and you healing completely between them would just cause problems. So make no mistake, this is a rush job, and I'll be taking a knife to you a lot more frequently than is wise. But it's what the circumstances demand."

"So my organ donor is still alive?" Shirou asked with a smirk. "Good to know."

"Yeah, she's alive, and she can hear you perfectly well. So be more polite the next time you greet her, you cheeky brat."

Shirou blinked slowly as the smirk slid off of his face. "Wait. You don't mean...?"

"Yeah, I do. You owe my Honey a great deal, so you better start acting like it."

Shirou looked very much as if he wanted to say something to that, but Kiritsugu shook his head.

"I appreciate this, Sisigou," Kiritsugu said. "Sorry to put you and Honey through so much trouble."

Sisigou shrugged. "Well, you know how my Honey gets. She insisted that I help, because it was you asking. Now, both of you, get out."

Once outside with the door shut behind him, Shirou could no longer contain himself. "How could you let him put-?!"

Kiritsugu shot him a warning glare. "I didn't let him. I asked him to. You and I agreed we would do anything to help Illya. This falls under that, Shirou."

"But why _her_?!"

"Because she was an Einzbern. And she's the only one of them who could willingly help us, now."

Shirou froze. "Wait... Honey was an Einzbern? But I thought you said-?"

"They threw her away," Kiritsugu said, his voice trembling with emotion. "And not to prove a point, like they did with Iri. Iri begged me to save Honey, too. That's the type of person she became. But Honey had been in that dumping ground far longer than Iri. And no matter what Sisigou and I did for her, she never fully recovered. I've only heard her speak twice. When I found her, she told me to kill her. But after I brought her to live with Sisigou, she thanked me. After that, her brain couldn't handle speech anymore."

"So she's brain dead," Shirou muttered.

"No, she isn't," Kiritsugu said firmly. "The Einzberns threw her away because they labeled her a failure. Imperfect. But you have to understand, even their flawed products are modern miracles. If only they'd seen the value in her, she never would have ended up in this condition. And that's only one of the reasons they deserve to die. I don't know the specifics, but I know Sisigou didn't have to do much to keep her alive. Even if her mind is damaged, her will and her body soldier on. She wants to live. And she wanted to help us. Sisigou never would have done the transplant if he thought any differently. Normally, he'd charge a king's ransom for one of Honey's organs. He gave you that and part of her magic crest. And because she's a defective Einzbern, he's been able to modify her crest so that you could accept it. Or at least, that's the plan. We'll find out if it worked in two weeks. Possibly sooner than that, if it doesn't."

* * *

**The Future and Forever King 4**

Even with the information of the modern era provided upon summoning, Mordred had expected that there would be some challenges upon arrival. Still, she had not expected such a rude welcome.

The second she appeared in the magic circle, the crowd of pale-skinned, white-haired mages immediately placed all manner of shackles upon her, as if she were a prisoner. Mordred had allowed this only because she had been busy searching each of the female's bare hands at the time. Based on the harbinger's description, she knew they were Einzberns, but little else.

None of them was her Master, and yet someone among them had clearly summoned Mordred. They had talent, which she respected, and they were clearly rule breakers, which she respected even more.

But any amusement on Mordred's part faded when they did not produce her Master right away, and it became obvious that they intended to leave her chained there.

"Were the instructions given by my harbinger unclear to you?" Mordred demanded. "Where is my Master?"

The obvious leader, which Mordred judged by his apparent age and aura of command, stepped forward. "Your Master is otherwise occupied at the moment. As I predicted from the presence of your harbinger, you answered the summoning even though your Master did not perform it. And your instructions were quite clear. We are simply ignoring them. You may be a king, but you are also a Servant." His eyes narrowed. "We do not take orders from you."

"I was just thinking the very same thing," Mordred said with a wicked grin. "You have one second to release me."

The man turned his back on her, which was answer enough.

"You will learn very quickly that while the Heir of Arthur can be most gracious, his vengeance is both swift and merciless! This insult means the end of your line, old man!"

Crimson lightning crackled and danced across Mordred's body, and yet she herself made no move to attack. The shackles would likely prevent her, she knew. But if there had ever been shackles made that could chain her greatest Noble Phantasm, then these white-haired mages did not possess them. And that would be their doom.

"Come forth, my Bloodthirsty Beasts! Show these fools the fate of any who insult the Heir of Arthur!"

There was no grand entrance: the only sign that Mordred had done anything was the object that rolled out of the crowd and stopped at her feet.

It was a head. And the body it once belonged to sank slowly to the ground, gushing blood.

The crowd was so transfixed by the sight that nearly all of them missed the figure in white who raced past Mordred. But none could miss her enraged howl as she leaped into the air, brandishing a war hammer which cracked open, revealing a core shining with the same crimson energy still surrounding Mordred's body. The howling itself was mostly unintelligible, but if one listened closely, there was only one even halfway recognizable word inserted within the nonsensical sounds.

"TRAITORS!"

Then the war hammer struck the floor, the ground splintered beneath their feet, and pure hell rose and then fell upon the Einzberns. And if there was pure hell to be found, then there was no better playground for Jack the Ripper, whose face was alight with demonic glee as she flitted from one victim to the next, beheading and bisecting as the mood struck her.

Mordred looked on with a smug grin. More and more mages kept appearing from other parts of the castle, but the bodies continued to pile up, as she had known they would. Their inability to effectively counter her Beasts was proof that the harbinger had kept Mordred's secrets, and deserved rewarding.

Only when all of the mages present were dead or mortally wounded did the hammer wielder approach Mordred, who by that point had easily escaped the shackles. They merely stared at each other. Then Mordred smiled warmly, and reached up to tenderly caress the cheek of the taller woman. "That's my girl."

And the hammer wielder, who had once been known as Frankenstein's monster, but now answered to the name of Morgan Pendragon, closed her eyes in absolute rapture, and leaned into Mordred's touch. "Fa-ther," she whispered.

Neither of them noticed the final Einzbern attempting to sneak up on them, at least until Jack appeared and nearly took the would-be attacker's head clean off with a wild swipe of her knife.

"How _dare_ you try to attack my precious Mor-chama from behind," Jack hissed at the soon-to-be corpse, then turned adoring eyes onto Morgan. "Don't worry your pretty head, Mor-chama! Your faithful Jack has saved you once again, and always will!"

Morgan shifted uncomfortably as Jack nuzzled against her leg, obviously seeking to be petted. "Doggy dumb," she growled, gently pushing Jack's head away with her foot.

They both quieted as Mordred surveyed the carnage.

"I do not know why the Einzberns thought they could treat me as a prisoner. But our new Master was not among them. I trust the harbinger would keep her out of harm's way. I have no doubt that the old man could have told us where they are now, but he slipped away once the heads started rolling."

Jack briefly looked sorrowful, but Mordred shook her head.

"I wasn't blaming you, Jack. For now, our priority is to find out where they've hidden our Master. Split up and search the area. Alert me at once if you find anything. The Heir of Arthur will not be kept from his destiny."

Morgan immediately charged out of the nearest gaping hole in the wall, while Jack vanished from view at once.

Sighing, Mordred selected a corpse that was still mostly intact, and sat on it. "Such a waste," she said mournfully. "I do find slaying my own kind distasteful. But distaste, I can bear. Insult, however, is another matter entirely."

* * *

Shirou's dreams usually consisted of fire and death. Oddly, this did not prevent him from sleeping, or even wanting to sleep. It just meant that his sleep was rarely peaceful, so he did not look forward to it the way some others did. Kiritsugu had tried a number of sleep aids, with limited success: Shirou knew exactly what to eat, if he wanted no dreams, but only because he'd be getting up to go to the bathroom every few hours. Frankly, Shirou preferred the dreams to that.

This night's dream was completely different, and Shirou knew at once why: it wasn't his dream. Well, that was wrong. It was happening in his head, he just wasn't in control of it. How he knew that, other than the lack of fire and death, was hard to say. He just felt like a guest in the dream.

The feeling intensified when the white-haired woman appeared in front of him.

At first, he mistook her for Irisviel. That was understandable: he saw her photo nearly every day, and did not expect any other Einzbern to appear in his dreams. And the two women did look remarkably alike. Shirou only began to notice the difference when he realized the woman was not smiling, as  
Irisviel was in the photo. The woman was also not talking, gesturing, or even moving at all.

Any possible excitement Shirou might have had began to fade quickly. "...Honey?" he asked warily.

She nodded.

Movement, from her, was so unexpected that Shirou jumped in shock.

She did not seem to notice or care. Instead, she tugged up his shirt, and began to carefully poke and prod at his bandaged ribs.

Shirou allowed this mostly because he was still getting over his shock. Even when he decided that he didn't like it, he did not resist. Honey had given him her kidney. If she wanted to be sure that it was working, that was a small thing to ask by comparison.

When Honey finished her inspection, she offered no explanation or instructions, and instead grabbed Shirou's hand and began to pull him. It was only when Shirou began to follow that their surroundings came into focus.

They were in Sisigou's house. At first, Shirou thought that was odd. Then he realized that Honey lived there, and no doubt thought of it as her home. That, more than anything else, assured Shirou that he was not in control of this dream. And also, that Honey could not possibly have been as brain  
dead as he first assumed.

Honey pulled Shirou outside, onto the porch. There was a young man standing in the front yard. He was not Sisigou. Not unless Sisigou had been a lot more handsome, and not creepy at all, when he was younger, which Shirou doubted very much. The man smiled as they approached. It was the type of smile that made ladies blush and laugh nervously. Shirou could tell this because of the way the man seemed to be aiming the smile mostly at Honey. If she was impressed or bothered, she did not show it well. Which was about what Shirou would have expected, even if Honey wasn't married.

"So, kid," the man said, focusing on Shirou. "The lovely lady here asked me to teach you how to fight. And I'm the type of guy that can't refuse a lovely lady, so I hope you're ready. Because even if you are, this is going to hurt tons."

Shirou did not doubt that. This man was not the most musclebound that Shirou had ever seen, and yet he carried himself with far more confidence than all of them combined. That could mean nothing good for Shirou.

"What should I call you?" Shirou asked. It felt like a good, safe question. And he wanted to stall the pain.

The man paused, considering. "Good question. I don't think I should give you my actual name, until we meet in person. And I am your teacher, but that wouldn't feel right, either."

Shirou resisted the urge to roll his eyes as the man went back and forth between potential choices. "Can't we just figure that part out later, onii-san?"

The man blinked, and then grinned. "Hey, that's perfect! Nice one, kid!"

"Really?" Shirou asked doubtfully.

"Yeah! A big bro teaching his little bro how to fight! It's perfect!"

"If you say so."

The man scowled. "Hey, fix your attitude, little bro! You wanna be a hero, don't you?"

Shirou froze. "What?" he asked softly.

"You wanna be a hero or not?" the man demanded.

"Yes," Shirou said slowly.

"Good. Then get those fists up, we've got training to do!"

Shirou had barely done so when a lightning-fast jab caught him in the nose and lifted him off of his feet. He managed to remain standing, but only because he came back down, hard, so that his feet were planted firmly in the ground. Otherwise, he would have fallen flat on his face or back.

The man blinked. "Huh. That wasn't... _completely_ terrible. Okay, change of plans. First, I'll make you a man. Then, we'll see about making that man a hero."

Shirou wanted to answer, but he was waiting for the world to stop spinning.

It was really, really taking its time in that. He wanted to get off this ride, badly.

But the training, and the pain, went on well into the night, and when Shirou woke up the next morning, he understood that the dream had been very real.

His body ached all over, but he retained everything he'd learned. He hadn't dreamed about fire and death at all. And likely wouldn't for some time. He imagined he'd be too busy with training. But, he had a more immediate task, first: find out what Pankration was all about, and why it involved him  
getting hit in the face so much.

**End of Chapter 2.**

* * *

**Continued in Chapter 3: One Bad Apple**

A horrible truth about Sakura is exposed. Which conveniently distracts everyone from the even worse truth that she's still concealing.

* * *

**Endnotes:**

I haven't given Sisigou a first name because I can't decide if he should be a parallel version of the one you're no doubt thinking of, or just a relative of that one. But I thought he should have a day job (or past connections to one) that would keep his necromancy well-stocked.

I am so glad that Apocrypha exists, because it answers questions like, would the Einzberns ever be so careless as to let their magical secrets get stolen? The answer there, of course, was yes. Now, even their dumping ground should be within the confines of the castle's bounded field. Which is why only someone like Kiritsugu would have had access to it. And I can't imagine the Einzberns would care if they saw him hauling away a defective product they'd already abandoned. If it had any value to them, they wouldn't have thrown it out. Which may very well be how their secrets got stolen in the first place. On the other hand, they never did say what happened to the body of the nameless Einzbern woman who was Shirou Amakusa's Master.

I get the feeling that Kirei is a fairly hands-off guardian: he doesn't like kids, he doesn't like Rin, and even if he did, notice how the people he supposedly cares about tend to die faster.

I am assuming that since Kiritsugu's gunmanship is not magecraft, but instead a naturally learned skill, it could be passed onto Illya without the need of a magic crest. Or, failing that, that Elder Acht might have ensured that it was passed down to Illya. He simply wouldn't tell her where it came from.

For anyone confused, the actual relation between Achilles and his "uncle" is a bit more complicated, and wordy. But they _are_ related. Most Heroic Spirits from Greek mythology are, apparently. Ladies love them some Big Daddy Z. Though it's usually him that loves them first.

* * *

**BIOS:**

**Morgan Pendragon**

_A.K.A:_ Frankenstein's monster, Mor-chama  
_Class:_ Berserker

_History:_ Mordred discovered her wallowing in sorrow, and lifted her up because no one else would. "You are already a twisted creature, so like the one my unfortunate mother became in the end. I give you her name, in the hopes that it will make you my daughter." To one so obsessed with escaping loneliness and being accepted, the invitation was as close to perfection as she could have dared hope for, since her creator's demise. While Mordred could never be seen as an equal or potential mate, the unique design of each of their manufactured bodies still proves fascinating, and nothing thrills Morgan quite so much as Mordred's affectionate touch. She lives as Mordred once did, doing anything to gain approval from her parent. Mordred, all too aware of the desperation involved in that, spoils her for fear that a second great rejection might undo her entirely. Jack's devotion confuses her, and she answers to the childish nickname "Mor-chama" only because it pleases Mordred to see them getting along. She does not seem to much care for Jack. But as "Doggy" is a gift from Mordred, Morgan would never abandon it. Unlike her Bridal Chest, Jack is a tool she does not need to keep hold of, and follows her willingly.

_Class Skills:_

**Mad Enhancement: D**

_Personal Skills:_

**Galvanism: B**

**Refined Galvanism: B+**  
Allows for the rapid conversion and sharing of energy among allies, in a form customized for each individual's maximum effectiveness. Furthermore, this shared innate knowledge permits allies to create combination attacks, and reduces overall energy consumption and waste. This Skill may be passively active, even when Morgan is not obviously present.

**Beastly Burst: B [replaces Hollow Lament of the Falsely Living]**  
Through close observation of Mordred's Mana Burst, and wanting to imitate her as much as possible, Morgan developed this Skill. It is little more than streaming electricity throughout her body, thereby slightly increasing her already boosted speed and strength. What does increase notably is her habit of charging at, and through, various targets with tremendous force. Any major damage she suffers is treated with Jack's Surgical Procedure.

_Noble Phantasms:_

**Bridal Chest: C**

**Blasted Tree: D-B**


	4. One Bad Apple

Notes: In this chapter you'll find certain scenes that are mostly responsible for inspiring the entire story. Appropriately, they're the dirtiest ones. Take that how you will.

* * *

**Oathkeepers**  
**A Fate Series Fusion by**  
**Nate Grey (xman0123-at-aol-dot-com)**  
**Chapter 3: One Bad Apple**

* * *

It was going to be an awkward phone conversation no matter what, so Shirou thought it best to get it over with.

"I dreamed about your wife last night."

"Oh, good. Now I hope you'll treat her with a lot more respect, you damn brat."

Shirou paused. "Wait, you don't sound as mad as I thought you would."

"Why would I?" Sisigou asked. "This means the first crest transplant was good. We might even be able to do the next procedure earlier than I planned."

"Don't you even want to know what the dream was about?"

"Kid, if you're wetting your sheets to my wife, you can keep the details to yourself."

"That's not how it was!" Shirou protested.

"Of course not. If you were actually stupid enough to call and tell me that, I've got plenty of things I can do that won't kill you, but will make you wish I had. Haven't you figured it out yet? Dreams are how my Honey communicates with anyone she needs to talk to."

"Oh. Well, why didn't you say so earlier?!"

"I was having too much fun imagining the look on your face when you first realized she wasn't Irisviel. Had to be priceless. Though I don't think you would have handled Irisviel much better, either. The lady was a hugger, and you just don't seem the type."

"Does this mean you know the guy from the dream, too?"

"Can't help you there. Only guy in my dreams is me. But if Honey introduced you, you can trust him."

* * *

Kiritsugu's first lecture went well. Sort of.

Rin arrived an hour early, for no obvious reason, but refused to help prepare the room, apparently just to be difficult. Shirou was instantly annoyed, but Kiritsugu was not fooled.

Rin was trying, and failing, not to be obvious about how she was feeling at the moment. Of course, she was excited at the idea of seeing her former sister in a setting where they could freely treat each other as sisters. But based on what Kiritsugu had learned so far, there was no guarantee that Sakura would agree to respond in kind. Either out of fear of how she would be punished for it later, or simply not wanting to partake in a momentary joy that would be taken away from her later on.

Sakura arrived exactly on time. Before she could say a word, Rin attacked her. That was how Shirou saw it, anyway. It was actually more of an aggressive hug that knocked Sakura back several feet, but because Rin was holding on so tightly, there was no danger of them falling. Sakura did not respond, at first. But as the seconds stretched into minutes, and Rin still refused to let go, Sakura's mask began to crack.

Soon both girls were blubbering and clinging and kissing. Shirou found the floor very interesting, feeling that he was not allowed to witness. Kiritsugu watched with an ache in his heart, thinking only of his own lost girls.

Sakura was a very strange case. For most of the lecture, her mask was up, and she appeared to have a dead look in her eyes. But any time Rin would touch her, or call her name, the light would return to her eyes. Kiritsugu could not be sure which part was the act, and it disturbed him.

Each student performed about as Kiritsugu expected.

Shirou had very little talent for magic, both because he hadn't been taught much yet, and because he did not excel at it. Whatever height he did reach, he would have to work extremely hard to grasp and maintain it.

Rin generally only needed to see a spell performed or described twice before she could pull off a reasonable copy. Her familiarity with her magical heritage was obvious in all that she did, and her desire to become a great magus, even more so. Kiritsugu saw at once that she would be a joy for any experienced magus to teach. And he wasn't ashamed to admit that, due to his more unconventional training, there were no doubt many things he could learn from her in the process.

Sakura was the real surprise. Kiritsugu had expected her to be more than decent, once the worms were not a factor. He had no idea. Sakura only needed to see spells once to instantly master them. The girl was a monster prodigy. Or would be, if not for the worms. It made no sense, that the Tohsakas would trade her away and keep Rin, if this was the difference in their aptitude. Although it was possible that Sakura's true potential had not emerged until just now, or as a result of something the Matous had done to her. In any case, Rin was not jealous. She heaped praise on Sakura, something that was clearly a new experience for the younger girl.

Toward the end, Kiritsugu made a mistake, well-intentioned though it was. The spell in question was a basic health scan, specifically meant to search for minor wounds. He had meant for the kids to practice by scanning him only.

But Rin, completely not by accident, scanned Sakura. As was becoming a habit for her, she put too much power in, which increased three things: the thoroughness of the scan, the variety of types of wounds it could detect, and the volume of the read-out.

All of which meant when the scan detected that Sakura was no longer a virgin, it announced this fact rather loudly.

Kiritsugu cut the spell's power before it could go on to say exactly how that was possible, but he saw the information display all the same, and the damage had already been done.

Shirou had no idea what to think.

Rin stared at Sakura in horror, no doubt assuming the worst.

Sakura merely lowered her head, her mask sliding firmly back into place. It would not lower again for the rest of the lecture. Not that there was much to be said after that. Rin attempted several times to get Sakura to talk to her, but nothing worked.

Kiritsugu could have told Rin exactly what she was demanding to know: who was responsible. The indirect answer was Zouken, and he had at least not carried out the act directly. But there was no guarantee that that would remain the case, and the knowledge would only hurt Rin more.

And there had been enough hurt for one night.

* * *

"I have received a vision of the coming War, holy man. I see myself, resplendent anew, standing alone above the mongrels. But I see no sign of you. Do you understand what that means?"

Kirei Kotomine did indeed know what that meant. There were precious few circumstances where he would willingly end his contact with the King of Heroes. And for Gilgamesh to see no trace of Kirei in the vision of the near future, to Kirei, could mean only one thing.

He was going to die.

The realization did not inspire dread in him. Instead, he was granted a sort of serenity. For years, he had wondered, what those he planned to, and actually did kill, felt just before they died. Now, he would know. And it was almost soothing, in a way.

His affairs were already in order. It was only good sense, for a Master to approach any Holy Grail War that way.

He did not concern himself with the ones he would leave behind.

Gilgamesh would manage as he always had, of course. Kirei would not have been surprised if Gilgamesh already had a replacement for him in mind.

Rin... well, she still hated him. And rightly so, even if she still didn't know why he truly deserved it. She could survive on pure bitterness, he was sure, if she had to.

And as for the child... Kirei had not thought of her in some time. Even now, what he felt was not truly concern. Perhaps, part of him wondered: would the Command Spells ever come to her? How would she perform in a coming Holy Grail War? What if his daughter was able to grasp the Grail, and wish upon it? What desire lived in her heart? He could not imagine that he was at all a part of it. But then, he had been deeply surprised before. Anything was possible, in the Holy Grail War.

* * *

Kiritsugu found Sakura, not quite hiding from the other children, in his bedroom. He decided to start with an apology.

"Sakura. I'm so sorry about what happened. I should have been monitoring Rin more closely-"

Sakura shook her head. "I don't blame you, Emiya-sensei. I should have known something like this could happen. Nee-san is... she hasn't changed at all. This is the first time she's had a chance to see me in a while. Of course she'd want to check my health. And she would have done it no matter what you said. That's how she's always been."

That seemed very likely to Kiritsugu, as "strong-willed" did not even begin to accurately describe the way in which Rin pursued the things she wanted. And she wanted access to Sakura, very much so. But, Kiritsugu, at this moment, was most concerned about what Sakura wanted and needed.

"Is there anything I can do to help your situation, Sakura? I realize, after what happened, that you have little reason to trust me, but-"

"Grandfather said you purchased some of his worms." Sakura peered up at Kiritsugu. "You did only implant them in one arm, as he instructed, didn't you?"

Kiritsugu wasn't certain if he was more annoyed or worried that Zouken would share such information with Sakura. "That's correct."

She seemed very relieved. "The incubation process can go horribly wrong, if you don't follow-"

"But I did," Kiritsugu interrupted, gently. "Thank you for your concern, Sakura."

She shook her head. "Not concern. I was told to obtain confirmation."

The cold, almost clinical tone made Kiritsugu pause. "I see."

"I'm not sure you do. Grandfather would have given you some warnings, but don't think he would ever tell you all that you need to know about the worms."

"And you're going to?" Kiritsugu asked in disbelief.

"No. Only the things he has given me permission to share with you. Which is still more than he would tell you himself. So it's good that you arranged these lessons."

"They were your sister's idea, actually."

That only seemed to make Sakura sad, but then it was swallowed up by that mask again. "I'm going to confirm that you implanted them correctly."

"How-" Kiritsugu began, but then it happened. Numbness, seeming to originate around his left arm, rapidly engulfed his entire body. His legs gave out, and he started to fall. Startlingly, though, he did not collapse to the floor. Instead, his legs somehow steadied themselves... but Kiritsugu had nothing to do with it, because as far as he could tell, he was still numb, and his body was not receiving any of his commands anymore. And yet, he carefully sat down in front of Sakura, who was gazing at him with no surprise that he could detect. And then, without warning, his mouth was free.

"Sakura... what-?"

"I've been given access to the central worm that controls the rest of yours. Or rather, I was finally informed that I had that ability all along. Don't worry, I can't make you do much. Paralysis is the most useful aspect, honestly."

"Why would you need to paralyze me?"

Sakura shrugged. "I meant useful in general. You're right, I have no real reason to do that to you. If anything, I feel safe around you, in this home. It's so... bright, and warm."

The numbness began to fade. And when it did, Kiritsugu learned something else that he never would have guessed about Zouken making him Sakura's puppet. His lingering aches, which he and Sisigou had determined to be symptoms of his being cursed, were gone. And nothing the two of them had tried yet had been able to accomplish even that much.

As her expression had not changed, Kiritsugu wasn't sure if Sakura knew what she had done. And if she didn't, he wasn't sure if he should tell her. He had no idea how much she would have to relay to Zouken.

"Does it hurt less now?" Sakura asked abruptly, erasing any doubt Kiritsugu had.

"Y-Yes. How did you know?" he asked.

"I don't know if I should say. But I can do it again later, if you like."

He nodded slowly. "I would appreciate that, Sakura."

She stared at him. "Maybe you can do something for me, too."

"I am responsible for teaching you. If there's anything you don't understand-"

"No, it's nothing like that." Sakura looked away from him, staring at the wall. "It's about my worms. Grandfather said that this situation would be very stressful for them, being turned on and off. They don't like it, and they would normally take that out on me. So the best way to prevent that, is to get ahead of it. Give them something they want, before they have to demand it."

"Is it blood?" Kiritsugu asked.

Sakura blinked, still not looking at him. "Sometimes."

"If that's what it takes, you can have my blood, Sakura. We can help each other."

"You mean it?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, Emiya-sensei. You're really nice."

Kiritsugu smiled. "Well, I always wanted to be someone that children could admire."

"Someone... admired," Sakura said slowly, finally turning back to him. "Yes, I _do_ admire you. But, do you think you could not tell anyone else about this?"

"It'll be our secret," he promised. "I can understand that you wouldn't want people to know."

"It's really more Shirou and nee-san that I'm worried about. Right now, they just feel sorry for me. I don't want that to turn into disgust."

Kiritsugu frowned. "Please give Shirou a little more credit than that. As for Rin... I can only do so much there. I think you'll have to convince her yourself, Sakura. And she will listen to you. You just have to be brave enough to speak to her. I'm sure it hasn't been long enough that she's lost the will to protect her precious little sister."

"But what if it's no good, after all? What if she can't accept me?"

"Then... that won't be your fault, Sakura. If you genuinely tried, that's all you can do. She will be the one that has to come to terms with rejecting you."

* * *

Sakura did not show up for lessons the next night. Kiritsugu said he'd been sent notice that she had a slight fever, but would likely be better by the following day. Rin found that just a bit too convenient, and flat out told him that she didn't care if Sakura was sick, she still wanted Sakura there in person, if only so Rin could see that for herself. Shirou immediately scolded Rin for that, but she ignored him.

Anyway, she was sure that Kiritsugu understood. The whole point of these lessons, for Rin, was to see what the Matous were doing to her sister, assuming it left physical marks. Sakura not showing up, then, defeated the purpose. And Rin was quite sure that the only thing Sakura was sick of, was the way Rin and Shirou had looked at her. But it wasn't their fault, how were they supposed to react? What greater proof did Rin need that she had completely failed Sakura than that?

And the worst part was that it made her question her late parents. Did they have any idea what they had doomed Sakura to by handing her over without a fight? Could they have done the same to Rin, if Sakura had been the family's chosen successor?

It was enough to keep Rin from sleeping easily that night.

Which meant that she was wide awake when she first realized that Sakura was standing motionless in the far corner of her bedroom, and must have been there for some time.

"S-Sakura?" Rin breathed in shock, staring at her. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you, nee-san," Sakura said simply.

"Then why didn't you come to the lesson tonight?"

Sakura shook her head. "Shirou is nice, but he wasn't born into magic, like we were. He can never understand why we live the way we do. Why we can't be together anymore. But, I'm not as strong as you, nee-san. I don't think I can keep pretending that I don't know you. I have to be able to be myself around you, at least sometimes."

Rin thought briefly of asking how Sakura had gotten into the house, figuring meeting in secret there might be a decent starting point. "We'll figure it out, Sakura, I promise. But it's late, and they might already know you're missing. You should go... home."

Sakura's face fell. "You won't let me spend the night here?"

"Oh, Sakura, that isn't up to me. I'd love for you to stay here, but you're a Matou now. They could use this as an excuse to say I was trying to take you back from them."

"They don't care about me, not really. One night won't make a difference, as long as I go back in the morning. I'll get punished, but I get worse treatment when I obey them without hesitation. Please let me stay, nee-san."

"Sakura," Rin pleaded, but her will was already breaking. "Oh, fine. But you have to go back first thing in the morning. I mean it, okay? And don't get used to this."

Rin liked to think she was still in control. But, waking up to the sensation of Sakura slowly stirring in her arms the next morning was almost enough to undo her. For a moment, Rin forgot: that Sakura was a Matou, that they didn't live in the same house or family anymore. And then, the unpleasant reminder, when she saw the color of Sakura's hair. Rin had to quickly excuse herself and run to the bathroom, and hoped she was at least partially successful in hiding the evidence of what she did there.

She shouldn't have bothered. There wasn't a Matou alive that couldn't recognize the bitter scent of vomit. Sakura had learned that in her first week as one.

Sakura didn't ask, thankfully. They shared a quick breakfast, and then Sakura left, as promised. But she lingered at the door, suddenly shy, until Rin swept her into a rib-cracking hug and covered her face with kisses. Rin stayed in the doorway, watching until Sakura rode out of sight in the car that was sent for her.

By the time Rin got home from school that day, there was a message on the answering machine: Sakura, happily announcing that her grandfather had given her permission to see Rin as much as she wanted, so long as Sakura was home for training at least two nights a week. The message had barely ended when Sakura arrived, lugging a large suitcase and wearing an unusually bright smile.

Rin wanted, needed to say no to this. True, it was her plan to eventually take Sakura back from the Matous. But if they were dangling Sakura before her eyes like this, it had to be a trap. Rin needed to be careful.

But when she looked into Sakura's eyes, all Rin could say was, "Welcome home, Sakura."

When they went to bed that night, Rin found herself crying, because she had her little sister back.

Sakura, on the other hand, found herself searching for the perfect spot on Rin's neck for drawing blood, and mentally marked it as hers.

Just as she already had for Kiritsugu.

She would get around to the physical marks later.

* * *

The King of Knights often drank alone. But this was not always the case.

Sometimes, an eager Heroic Spirit would approach, unable to pass up the chance, and share a few words, clearly hoping for an invitation to sit. And sometimes it was extended, but sometimes not.

Any Knight of the Round was almost always welcome. Many was the night when Lancelot would join his king in deep conversation. Often they would laugh until they could barely breathe, recounting the many failed attempts of Lancelot to teach Mordred how to fight "properly" as a knight should.

Mordred preferred to share their drinking in a more private setting. Either because their words were for no one else's ears, or because the brash, jealous child lived on in that lion's heart, and still did not like to share her father's company with others, save her adopted family.

On this night, the King of Knights drank alone. But not for long.

The doors of that great hall opened and shut. All conversation ceased. Even the King of Heroes paused in his drinking, his eyes widening ever so slightly, and his breath stolen.

A figure in dark armor, weighed down by the sheer density of the mana coursing through it, slowly approached the table where the King of Knights once sat. Now, it was the table where the King of Knights stood, ready for anything.

"Are we well-met, King of Knights?" asked a soft, dangerous voice. "Or do our swords have reason to clash, on this night?"

After several heartbeats, the King of Knights smiled, briefly. "We are indeed well-met. Please, allow me the honor of your company. I would hear more of your journey."

"Agreed. In return, I would hear more of your Mordred."

By unspoken agreement, they both sat, placing their swords on the table.

Their legendary, peerless swords, both in invisible sheaths of wind.

* * *

Shirou thought he was ready for the next dream. He did plenty of warm-up exercises before he went to bed, thinking it might help.

Only when he arrived on Sisigou's porch this time, there was an armchair positioned to his left, and Honey was seated in it. She wasn't moving. This was hardly surprising, except that he expected it of her outside of the dream. She had been far more animated the last time.

It occurred to Shirou that she might actually be asleep. Or, finally dead. And he probably needed to find out which, in a hurry.

But as he reached out to touch her, a pair of strong hands clamped down on his mouth and wrist.

"_Never_ wake a sleeping woman," advised a familiar voice in his ear, "unless you've got a nice surprise for her that'll make her forgive the disturbance. And since this woman is taken, and you're not yet a man, I think you'd better let her sleep."

"I wanted to make sure she wasn't dead, onii-san," Shirou said.

"There are better ways to do that, too. Come with me, the lesson's inside today."

Shirou was all too happy to follow, as he didn't think there was enough room in the house to get punched in the face properly.

"Being a man isn't just about building up your body. We also need to build up your mind. I'll admit, when I was your age, I found this type of stuff pretty boring. I wanted to be a hero fast. And my teacher would knock me flat on my butt, and then point out that if I knew the proper stance and the proper time to use it, I'd never leave my feet. But instead of just telling me what to do and when to do it, he'd hide the information somewhere and make me find it. And by the time I did, I'd have accidentally learned about thirteen other things in the process. Eventually, I just started learning as much as I could on purpose."

"And you're going to do the same thing to me?" Shirou guessed.

"Are you crazy? That'd take way too long."

"So you're going to hit me when I get something wrong, then?"

"No, but that's not a bad idea for the future."

Shirou winced. "So what are we doing tonight?"

"It's very simple, little bro. I'm gonna teach you how to win a girl's heart." This was said with both confidence and emphasis, as if it were a task of extreme importance.

Shirou was not impressed. "What does that have to do with being a man?"

"Everything," was the grave reply.

"I'm not so sure."

"Well, what do you know? I bet you've never even kissed a girl."

Shirou grimaced. "I haven't, but why would I want to do that?"

"Why would you...? Oh, that's it. Leave my sight at once, and don't come back until you've kissed a girl."

"What?! Are you seriously-?!" Shirou began, then yelped as he was tossed bodily out of the house, landing hard on his stomach on the porch. Groaning, he slowly got up, only to find Honey staring at him expectantly. "Sorry I woke you, but-"

Honey stood up, walked over, and knelt beside him.

Shirou thought she was going to help him up, but was instead surprised when she turned her head, staring at something in the yard. He turned his head, too, but saw nothing noteworthy.

After a moment, Honey poked him hard in the chest, then turned her head again.

This time when he started to turn his head, he got another hard poke. Shirou frowned. "What?! I don't-"

Honey pointed at her cheek.

Shirou stared, and then his eyes widened. "Wha... NO!"

Honey crossed her arms over her chest, looking very insulted.

"Oh, it's not that! But your husband just got done telling me what he'd do to me if I disrespected you. And even if he was okay with it, I'm not! Okay, wait, that came out wrong. I'm supposed to kiss a girl, and you're... older, and-"

Shirou found himself tossed again, this time into the yard. By the time he picked himself up, Honey was gone, the front door was shut and locked, and Shirou had an idea that, whatever the lesson had been this night, he had failed at it spectacularly.

* * *

Sakura had not yet decided how she was going to deal with Shirou. He seemed nice enough, though a little wary of girls in general and Rin in particular. But it was going to be harder to manipulate him, if she couldn't get near him.

She was unexpectedly presented with an opportunity at the very next lecture.

Shirou flubbed every spell he attempted, and was clearly distracted. The reason for his distraction was not immediately obvious, but Sakura did catch him frowning at Rin a few times. It was possible they'd had a fight that she didn't know about, but the likelihood of Rin failing to mention it to her was very low. She would want Sakura to be on her side, after all.

Once the lecture ended, Shirou went outside, presumably for some fresh air. Sakura followed, and found him staring at the ground, looking frustrated. He did not notice her presence until she tugged lightly on his sleeve, and then he jumped.

"Wha! Sakura!" he yelped.

Sakura frowned. "Should I leave?"

"Uh, no! No, you don't have to leave, I was just... I don't know..." He shrugged helplessly.

"Is something bothering you?" Sakura asked. "Is it... what you found out about me?"

Shirou hesitated. "I can't say I'm happy about that, but no, this is something completely different. I need to... no, forget it. I shouldn't be talking to you about this."

"Why not?" Sakura asked.

"You're too young, and even if you weren't... this isn't something I want to talk to a girl about. Well, it's not something I want to admit to any girl, really."

"Is this about how you'll have to marry nee-san someday?" Sakura guessed.

Shirou stared at her in horror. "What... why would you even suggest that?! There's no way I'd ever marry her!"

Sakura sighed. "But it's part of that contract you agreed to..."

"No, no, no! The contract says I'll marry into the Tohsaka family if they'll have me! I just assumed Rin had a cousin somewhere I didn't know about!"

Sakura shook her head. "Nee-san pretty much _is_ the Tohsaka family."

"Maybe she'll adopt someone soon?" Shirou asked weakly.

Sakura frowned. "You really didn't think about this before?"

"Kiritsugu told me not to worry about it for now. I thought he had another option in mind. He knows I can't stand Rin! That was obvious even before she accepted the contract!"

"I'm told people grow out of these things when they get older," Sakura offered. "Sometimes, anyway. Maybe you and nee-san will eventually grow to like each other."

"I doubt it," Shirou muttered.

"If that's not what was bothering you all night, then what was?" Sakura asked.

"I can't tell you. You could tell someone."

Sakura shook her head. "Who would I tell?"

"Rin."

Sakura rolled her eyes. "Yes, because I have _no_ idea how awful it can be, when a very personal secret is told."

Shirou blushed. "Sorry."

"Apologize by trusting me. What's the problem?"

Shirou bit his lip, then sighed. "I have to kiss a girl," he said quickly. "It's... sort of like a homework assignment."

Sakura blinked. "What sort of school-?"

"I can't say. See, you don't believe me! This is why I didn't want-"

"Will I do?" Sakura asked.

Shirou blinked. "Huh?"

"Could you kiss me?" Watching his expression grow horrified, she shook her head. "On the cheek, Shirou."

"Oh." He calmed down slightly. "Well, he never said where I had to kiss a girl..."

"Right. So, again: me?"

"Are you sure?" he asked hesitantly.

"How important is this assignment to you?" she countered. "I assume you don't want to ask nee-san for help?"

Shirou shook his head wildly. "No way!"

"And do you know any other girls?"

Shirou winced. "Um... there's Fuji-nee, but I could never kiss _her_..."

"Why not?" Sakura had only a brief interaction with the older girl, and found her to be pleasant and playful, though a little pushy. And ultimately, very cute. So not only was Sakura surprised that Shirou didn't want to kiss Fujimura, she would honestly be more surprised if Fujimura hadn't already stolen his first kiss. Although, if Fujimura had done so, that would certainly explain why Shirou was wary of her.

"Because she'd either enjoy it and never let me forget it, or she'd hate it and never let me forget it," Shirou answered.

"Fair enough. So, am I the best option by default?"

Shirou frowned. "I guess? But I feel like I'd be using you."

Sakura resisted the very strong urge to tell him that she was already no stranger to being used. "I'm volunteering myself, Shirou."

"Why, though?"

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I want you to kiss me?"

Shirou froze. "Do you?" he asked weakly.

"I don't hate the idea," she admitted. "But I'd prefer not having to ask you for it first. It's lucky that our interests overlap just now, that's all. I want to help you. After all, you might be my brother-in-law, one day."

He shuddered. "Please don't remind me!"

Sakura shook her head. "Fine. So, are we doing this or not?" she asked, all business.

"You promise you'll never tell Rin?" he demanded.

"I promise."

"And that you won't laugh at me, if I'm horrible at it?"

Sakura smiled sympathetically. "Shirou, so long as you care at all about how I feel, you can't possibly be horrible at it." Which was mostly true. So long as his kiss didn't resemble a worm burrowing mercilessly into her flesh, which was a pretty low standard, in her eyes. And if he was truly that bad, she'd have a worm burrow through his brain, just so no other girl would have to experience that.

As it turned out, the kiss was very quick, very clean, and in no way reminded Sakura of worms. What it did remind her of was that Shirou was a boy. A very nice, very nervous, very inexperienced boy.

Once it was done, Sakura thanked him, and went back inside. Sakura never told Rin about the kiss. There was no real reason to. It could have been worse, but it could have been much better. And for now, at least, Sakura wasn't all that interested in a boy like Shirou.

No, she decided, as Rin finished up her own conversation with Kiritsugu and came to collect Sakura, Shirou hardly interested her at all.

And why would he, when she could have a man like Kiritsugu instead?

* * *

The first time that Sakura lapped fresh blood from his finger, Kiritsugu had managed not to look at her at all.

He also refused to imagine that it was Iri, tempting as that was.

Instead, he imagined that it was Illya, dying and desperate and needing closely related blood in a very direct way. That worked well enough, the first few times. And perhaps would have kept working.

Except, Sakura's needs... changed. Or, she just became more truthful about them. Hadn't she said that blood was just one type of food that her worms demanded? He hadn't bothered to ask what the _other_ was. He knew the worms ate mana, which could be obtained through blood-drinking. And Sakura had never asked him to provide any other type of food.

It never occurred to him that she wouldn't ask at all, when it was in her power to simply take it. How silly he had been, to think that paralysis ability would never come into play again. He had thought it a strange coincidence, but no. It was so she could easily mount her larger, stronger prey.

To Sakura's credit, she did not abuse her power over him as much as she could have, or wanted to. She came up with the excuses of needing private instruction, or tending to Kiritsugu when his mysterious illness flared up. And flare up it did, because Kiritsugu now realized what he had refused to believe before: Sakura could influence his curse. He wasn't sure if she was taking it into herself to relieve his symptoms, or using some control over it to suppress the symptoms. But the less they interacted, the worse he got, and the more they interacted, the better he felt.

And that was _before_ Sakura had decided she needed more from him.

Kiritsugu even found himself appreciating the smaller mercies.

If Sakura had asked first, Kiritsugu wasn't sure what he would have said. Part of him was glad she hadn't asked. It saved him the trouble of providing an answer.

No matter how filthy this made him feel, he could take some pride in that he was not the first to violate Sakura. And yet, he feared he may have been the first man to do so.

He told himself that it was for Illya. That Iri would forgive him, for that reason. That at least this wasn't being done to Shirou.

But through it all, one thought kept haunting him. Was Sakura truly helping him delay his end at the hands of the curse? Or was she part of the curse itself?

* * *

Illyasviel did not panic when she emerged from the snowy forest to find part of the castle wrecked and smoking. This was because the damage occurred at the rear of the castle, while everything that belonged to her was in the front. And, too, the Einzberns placed so little value on their individual lives, since nearly everyone could be re-created if needed. Even if all but Elder Acht had died, the family could still rise from the ashes and thrive once more.

And, of course, because all of the people that Illyasviel truly cared about were currently with her, and safe.

Sella was torn between panic and outrage.

Leysritt... just smiled at the destruction, and the possibility of multiple deaths.

"We should go see who survived," Illyasviel decided at last.

"But what if the attackers are still-?" Sella began, then fell silent. She had just realized that, in the extremely unlikely event that there was any attacker nearby who could defeat Leysritt, they were all going to die, anyway. But it was extremely unlikely. So in either case, there was little sense in worrying, since there was nothing she could do.

Illyasviel obviously had more confidence, as she marched straight ahead to the castle, with Leysritt following, and Sella reluctantly bringing up the rear.

Without warning, a starling fluttered down from the trees and landed on Illyasviel's shoulder.

Illyasviel paused and stared at the bird, which stared back at her.

Sella frowned. "I was not aware you had the ability to-"

"I don't," Illyasviel interrupted. "This bird has no fear of people."

Leysritt glanced at the starling, but immediately lost interest.

Curious, Illyasviel gently stroked the starling's black head with a finger. Of all the reactions to this she might have expected, the one she got was of the type that she was completely unprepared for.

"Wah! Jack loves to be petted!" the starling chirped.

Sella immediately dove forward, trying to clap her hands around the bird, only to have it vanish, even as a very large knife was pressed against her throat, drawing a thin line of red.

"Jack doesn't like you," said a childish voice in her ear.

"Enough, Assassin," Leysritt stated. "Sella is part of Illyasviel's entourage. You may not harm her."

Illyasviel stared, trying to wrap her mind around the image of the childish, blonde Servant who pouted and hopped off of Sella's back, gracefully sheathing the wicked-looking knives in one smooth motion and bowing at Illyasviel's feet.

"Jack is sorry she hurt your mean friend, Master."

Sella scowled at that and grasped her lightly bleeding throat, but said nothing.

Illyasviel moved closer, seeming confused. "You don't seem very much like a king."

Leysritt shook her head. "This Servant is one who serves King."

"My Servant has Servants?" Illyasviel asked in surprise.

"Of course!" Jack replied brightly. "There are many who follow onii-sama! Even you will want to, Master!"

"Mmm. We'll see." Grinning, Illyasviel scratched a spot on the back of Jack's neck, and giggled when Jack nuzzled against her stomach. "I like this one!"

Sella cleared her throat loudly. "Shouldn't we be looking for your actual Servant, instead of playing with this one?"

Illyasviel sighed. "Fine, Sella. Come on, Jack!"

Jack barked happily and ran at Illyasviel's side as she continued toward the castle.

"Could you have let that Assassin get any closer to killing me?" Sella hissed at Leysritt.

Leysritt did not share her concern. "She would not have struck to kill until she was sure that you were an enemy. You are not helping your case at all."

"I find it hard to be friendly with people who try to kill me!"

"Still not helping," Leysritt pointed out, much to Sella's frustration.

* * *

The next time that Shirou appeared on the Sisigou porch, he was greeted by enthusiastic applause from Honey and his onii-san. "Stop it," he grumbled, blushing.

"You have taken your first steps toward true manhood, little bro! Of course we're going to celebrate that! Though, I would have preferred it if you kissed that Fuji-girl instead-"

"Don't even start!" Shirou snapped, growing redder.

"Ah, well. It was your first time. But you did complete the assignment, so you get a reward worthy of this momentous occasion."

"Like what?" Shirou asked warily.

"You may now have a new title to call me by: Lancer!" was the proud, loud reply.

"That's it?" Shirou asked mildly.

Lancer glared at him. "Hey, you should be on your knees thanking me! This is a true honor for you!"

"It's not even your real name! Why would I even call you-?"

Shirou gulped as he suddenly found the blade of a spear resting against his throat.

"Why would you not?" Lancer asked softly.

"Lancer's good! Lancer's great!"

Lancer slowly withdrew the spear. "You have no sense of style or passion, little bro. We'll have to work on that, among many other things. But first, that mental training I promised you."

"So I need to learn how to fight?"

"No, you need to learn how to properly honor a woman."

Shirou's face fell. "This again?"

Lancer scowled at him. "Who is your mother?"

Shirou froze. "I... that's..."

"Who is your mother?" Lancer demanded.

"I don't know, okay?! I don't really remember much of my life before the fire-"

"You don't remember the one you had before, then. But who is your mother now?"

Shirou blinked. "Now? I don't have-"

A hand slapped his face sharply, hard enough to make Shirou stumble. He turned to find Honey glaring down at him. "What? What did I say?"

Lancer shook his head. "A boy who cannot name his parents, and fails to show them proper honor, will never be a man, and certainly not a hero." With unmistakable pride, he stepped forward. "I am the son of the devoted sea goddess Thetis, and the brave hero Peleus! And you are the son of the determined Kiritsugu Emiya, and the selfless Irisviel Emiya! Declare their names with pride in your heart from now on, and never fail to dedicate your victories to those who placed you on your current path!"

Shirou thought that was more than a little unfair. He had never met Irisviel, and even though she was Kiritsugu's late wife, that did not make her Shirou's mother. Not in Shirou's eyes, anyway. If they had at least met once in life, or if he had inherited something from her, maybe he would feel differently.

But, he realized with a start, he had inherited something from Irisviel. Her husband had become his father. Her daughter had become his sister. And her dream of reuniting the two had become his, as well. To suggest he didn't know her, when he had inherited her very will... he could see now why Lancer thought him a fool. To suggest that she wasn't his mother... then why, now, did his never having met her cause him pain?

"Honey," Shirou said softly, "please show me my mother."

There was no response, and when he looked up, Honey and Lancer were gone. But only because their presence was no longer needed, Shirou knew as he turned to find a smiling, white-haired woman with red eyes sitting in Honey's armchair.

Some things were just between a boy and his mother.

* * *

**The Path of Blood 2**

It almost hadn't succeeded. But the Other had been prepared for such a turn of events. Had been hoping for them, if she were honest with herself. And the chance had finally come.

Now, all she had to do was wait a little longer, and if her estimation of the timing was right... yes!

She felt it: a slight tug on the small form hidden in her cupped hands.

"It is time, little one. This is all I am able to do for you. Go now, and show me the future that you would craft for yourself."

She raised her hands and opened them. This time when the tug came, the small, white snake was pulled from her grasp, and flew into the air, only to vanish.

The Other lowered her hands, hesitated, and then made a silent wish of her own.

* * *

It had taken some time before Sakura was ready to admit it, but now, there was no sense in trying to deny it.

Sakura had always been destined to become a Matou. The circumstances of her life made that very clear to her.

That first night, when Zouken had thrown her into basement, and a living tidal wave of insects rose up to welcome her into the nightmare, she had believed that her life was over. But, it was only life as she knew it that was ending.

It only happened, only could happen, in the moment just before the first worm burrowed into her flesh.

Every magus could usually manipulate at least one element. Rin's father, Tokiomi, had specialized in Fire. Rin herself would eventually gain access to each of the Five Great Elements: Fire, Water, Wind, Earth, and Ether.

And Sakura... had no elemental affinity of the Five Great Elements. Instead, she had an Imaginary Element of Imaginary Numbers. Or, as it was more commonly called, Hollow.

Until that moment in the basement. All Matous had Water as their elemental affinity, and from the second that first worm pierced her flesh, so did Sakura.

At least, that was certainly how things appeared to progress.

But there was only one person alive who knew differently. Knew the truth. And her name, despite all appearances to the contrary, was still Sakura Tohsaka. Yet she did not technically exist within the world anymore.

Sakura's magical potential, while it had always been high, had also always been limited by her lack of magical knowledge. Because Rin had been named the Tohsaka successor, Sakura had received almost no magical education, outside of what Rin had managed to show her in secret (and would have gotten in a great deal of trouble for doing so, had this been discovered). So any magical prowess Sakura was ever able to show, was largely the result of an instinctual push, rather than any practical knowledge. She had the power, she simply was purposely never taught how to use it properly. Which might have been a huge problem... to anyone but Sakura.

For rather than her lack of knowledge limiting her, instead it forced her to fill in the gaps with her own imagination. And there could hardly have been a more dangerous solution to the problem.

The key to truly mastering manipulation of an Element, was the ability to learn magic that made use of more than one Element at a time. And if Sakura had simply combined Water with Hollow instinctively, that fateful day in the Matou basement, that would have been amazing enough, for a largely untrained magus.

But that wasn't what Sakura did.

Or more accurately, that wasn't what the _Sakuras_ did.

Because, just for a moment, instead of one little girl being overrun by insects, there were two.

Rather, there were two in one. Anyone watching would not, could not have seen the switch. At best, they might have noticed that Sakura became slightly bulkier before the insects swarmed over her.

And that Sakura's eyes looked dead before the insects ever touched her. Sakura Matou had been dead from the start. A life-sized, incomplete composite of hair and dead skin cells, shaped in Sakura's image, as it had been crafted around her body like a Hollow suit of armor. But with no true idea of what she was doing, that should not have protected Sakura for long.

But in the instant that the first worm pierced the shell, something had pushed Sakura down, and filled the Sakura-shaped container. Something with a strong will and enough power needed to maintain the armor, at least long enough to be convincing.

Sakura woke up naked on the cold, stone floor hours later, in what certainly still looked like the Matou basement. But she could not hear or see any insects, and there was no sign of her armor.

There was a puddle of fluid on the floor. Based on the scent and appearance, Sakura could guess what it was. But with what those worms had intended to do to her, she doubted very much there were many people that could control their bladder under such conditions.

After a pause, she realized something was moving in the puddle, and with some hesitation, she moved closer and peered into it.

It was only her reflection, or that was her first thought. But then her reflection winked at her, and Sakura had certainly not done so. "What-" she began to say.

Her reflection lifted a finger to its lips in a shushing gesture, and then dropped out of sight. It took Sakura a moment to realize her reflection had had violet hair, but her own was still brown... although, she noticed with some alarm, there was now a faint but definite streak of white along the left side.

By the time her reflection returned hours later, Sakura was full of questions. But very few of them got answered that night.

"Don't worry," the reflection said. "I will protect you."

"Who are you?" Sakura asked.

"As far as the world is concerned, I'm you. You will stay there. Hidden. Safe."

"For how long?" Sakura asked fearfully.

"Until I have enough power to guarantee your safety on this side." After a pause, the reflection added, "You won't be alone for long."

"Wait! How did I get here? Where is here?"

"You used your power of Hollow to create this form. I used the power of Water to seal you in a reflection. It was the only way to protect you. Unless, you would rather take your chances on this side, in this house?"

Sakura quickly shook her head.

"I will suffer in your place. I am used to it, so do not be concerned for me. This time, at least, there is a greater purpose for it."

"Thank you," Sakura whispered, lowering her head. "You saved me. I thought no one would. I thought-"

"We are partners, Sakura Tohsaka. Neither of us would exist as we are, without the other."

"Then, what's your name? I should know what to call the one who saved me."

"I can only answer to the name of Sakura Matou at this time, since I will be posing as her. To avoid confusion, you may simply call me Matou."

Sakura frowned. "But... that makes it sound like we aren't close."

"We alone will know differently, won't we? I live in this world only for your sake, Sakura. You must trust me. Only our combined power will lead to our combined success."

That much seemed true enough. Matou required occasional donations of mana from Sakura to keep the armor from falling apart. This was easily managed through any mirrored surface. Matou seemed confident that, after some time had passed, Sakura's mana would no longer be needed to maintain the armor. That was because, amusingly to it, Zouken had implanted it with its own power, and after an adjustment period, it would be extremely capable.

Sakura had never found the nerve to ask, but she suspected that Matou actually enjoyed the sensation of worms wriggling through and feasting on its body.

In any case, Matou had kept its word. There was nothing in the reflection world that threatened Sakura. But that was probably because there was nothing else there that was alive. Even when Matou eventually expanded Sakura's living space beyond that dark basement to include the rest of the house, nothing but Sakura lived there.

And then the shadows came.

Matou had promised that Sakura would not be alone, and this was clearly what it meant.

There were only three shadows, and Sakura did not think any of them would ever be mistaken for belonging to her.

The shadow that made Sakura feel the safest was one she had named Armor. At least, she thought it looked like someone wearing fancy armor.

The shadow that made Sakura the happiest was clearly female and had large wings, so she called it Angel.

The shadow that confused Sakura the most didn't really look like anything she had ever seen before. Plus it came with its own A-name (oddly, it was the only one capable of some speech), though she didn't know how it had gotten that name.

The shadows would put on plays for her several times a day, and usually they were dramatic battles. Armor or Angel would always win. This just seemed natural, and the other shadow never complained. Winning wasn't important to it.

Not the first time around, anyway.

* * *

Soon after Jack signalled that she had found their Master, Morgan returned to Mordred, sulking. Of course, Mordred had expected this: Jack was the better tracker and hunter by far, and there was no getting around that fact. Morgan was better at dealing with more obvious prey, as she herself tended to be obvious in her methods. Which wasn't to say that she couldn't have run the Master down if needed, only that the Master would definitely know there was a pursuer, and from a long way off.

It was no good trying to explain any of that to Morgan, however, as it would only depress her further. And upon learning the cause of her upset, Jack's heartfelt apologies would make things far worse.

"Do not frown so, my daughter," Mordred said gently. "I will have a task for you alone soon enough."

Morgan perked up at once, happy to have another chance to prove herself. When they heard the approaching footsteps, she moved slightly behind Mordred, ready to defend against another potential attack.

Jack appeared first, leading the small group. "I'm back, with Master, onii-sama!" she announced happily, bounding over to Mordred's side.

Mordred nodded, but her gaze never left the young girl standing between the two taller women. "Good work, Jack."

The girl stepped forward boldly. "Now, you look like a king," she said approvingly.

"I would hope so, since I am one." Mordred met the girl's gaze, but notably did not bow, or even incline her head the slightest bit. "Greetings, my Master. I am King Mordred Pendragon, the Heir of Arthur Pendragon. For the duration of this Holy Grail War, my sword and all who serve under me, are yours to command."

The girl frowned slightly. "I'm Illyasviel von Einzbern. You can call me Illya. But aren't you going to bow to me?"

Jack and Morgan traded amused glances, but said nothing.

Mordred blinked. "You should know, Master, that there is only person, one king, that I will bow to. Perhaps, before this War is over, you will become my Queen. Should that happen, I will certainly bow to you. But not before."

"Oh yeah? So what am I to you now?"

"My Master," Mordred said simply. "So as we are, I cannot bow to you. But I can do this." And with that, Mordred took Illyasviel's hand and placed a kiss on the back of it.

Illyasviel blushed and tried to pull her hand away, but Mordred did not release it.

"I swear that I and all who serve me will protect you, Master."

By some unseen signal, Morgan hurried forward, offering a quick, and obviously much practiced curtsy... which still needed some work.

"This delightful child is my beloved daughter, Morgan," Mordred introduced, using her free hand to grasp Morgan's. "Master, she will be your personal protector. I trust you two will get along." Mordred drew them both closer and joined their hands.

Morgan looked quite eager, but Illyasviel could not help staring at the horn protruding from Morgan's head for several seconds, then to Mordred, then to Jack, and finally back to Morgan.

"Funny thing about me," Illyasviel said slowly. "I need to be able to see people's eyes, otherwise I think they might be hiding something from me."

Morgan stiffened slightly, her long hair swaying before her eyes.

"I have lots of ribbons for my hair," Illyasviel continued, "but I don't use them much, since I normally wear it down. You're welcome to have some, if you like."

Morgan glanced uncertainly at Mordred.

"Master has generously offered you a gift, my daughter," Mordred said. "It would be rude not to at least consider it."

Morgan turned back to Illyasviel and nodded slowly.

"Sella, take her to the ribbons," Illyasviel ordered.

Sella looked quite unhappy about that, but did as she was told.

"Thank you for being kind to her," Mordred said after the pair had left.

Illyasviel shrugged. "This isn't the first time I've met someone who was younger mentally than they are physically. Though, her case is... unique."

"It's less a matter of youth, and... well, that can wait," Mordred replied. "Master, we really should discuss our plans for the Holy Grail War."

Illyasviel blinked. "What's there to talk about? We'll fight and win."

Mordred frowned and pinned her with a knowing stare. "Just so we are clear, I have _no_ intention of turning my Master into a mud-spewing goblet."

Illyasviel gaped at Mordred, then glared at Leysritt. "You told!"

"There was no reason not to," Leysritt countered. "You cannot become both a queen, and the Grail. King would have you become a queen, and we have a contract. These things take priority. Your continued existence as King's Master takes priority."

"Then what do you plan to do when the other Servants show up, looking for a fight?" Illyasviel asked.

"You forget that this castle is far removed from where the majority of the fighting will likely take place. There are only two Masters that might venture this far, and in both cases, they would be among the last of the survivors. This castle will be our stronghold."

Illyasviel shook her head. "It's a nice plan, but distance won't matter when a Servant is killed. I'd still absorb their energy."

"Not if there is another Lesser Grail aggressively absorbing their energy instead," Leysritt corrected.

"Are you suggesting there is one more suitable than me?" Illyasviel asked.

Leysritt shook her head. "Suitability is not a factor. Determination is. You will not be seeking the energy of the Servants. The other Lesser Grail will."

Illyasviel immediately took offense. "You don't-"

"I misspoke." Leysritt tried again. "Illyasviel. You don't have to seek or take in the energy of any Servant."

Illyasviel just stared at her.

"You have been raised to believe that becoming the Grail is your destiny. But I will tell you something that you may not yet realize: you have a choice. If you choose to realize the dream of the Einzberns, that is your decision. If you choose freedom, that is also your decision. Do not become the Grail simply because it is expected of you, and especially not when someone else is able and willing to take your place. Is this not why we made our contract? So that you could have a choice?" Leysritt gestured to Mordred. "I have provided you with a Servant willing to fight even you for the right to exist as you are. You have everything you need, if you wish to escape your fate. But it is all useless, if you refuse to move forward."

"I... need time to think about this," Illyaviel said softly.

"Time is something we have plenty of."

Illyasviel turned to leave, but Mordred's words stopped her.

"Master, you showed my daughter kindness. You gave her hope that you two might become friends. But if you intend to become the Grail, then I wish you had never bothered. You cannot understand how much it would damage her, to lose someone precious to her again. If you cause my daughter to mourn you, then I swear to you: I will destroy the Grail, and the dream of the Einzberns will die with it."

Illyasviel quickly went to her bedroom, only to find further chaos: Morgan and Sella were nearly about to come to blows when she walked in.

"Illya-sama, this brutish woman is-!" Sella began.

Illyasviel cut her off with a look, then turned to Morgan. "What's the problem?"

In response, Morgan thrust a tightly-clenched fist at her, which opened to reveal several ribbons of various colors.

Illyasviel took a guess. "Would you like me to put them on for you?"

Morgan nodded sharply, shooting a mistrustful glare at Sella.

Illyasviel sighed. "Sella, you didn't actually tug on a Berserker's hair, did you?"

"Of course not!" Sella protested. "But we couldn't agree on the placement, number, or colors of ribbons-"

"So you argued with a Berserker, and were also about to fight her?" Illyasviel asked in amusement.

Sella sniffed. "Illya-sama, I wasn't about to fight anyone. She is the one brandishing that mace-"

"Which is part of her body, so she needs it function. Jack told me earlier."

"That doesn't mean she needs to wave it at people!"

"I'm sure she could do far more harmful things than wave it, if she wanted. Don't push her, Sella."

"You are making far too many allowances for them!"

Illyasviel glared. "You are forgetting which of us is the maid, Sella, and which of us they all swore loyalty to."

Sella paled and stepped back. "Illya-sama, I am only trying to support you the best way I know how!"

"But you can't possibly know how to do that, in this situation, can you? Even I'm learning as I go. Maybe we all need to be a little more open-minded. You, especially. Or have you already forgotten what they do to Einzberns they have no reason to spare? And if you're expecting me to save you, then you want my most recent memories to be of you helping me, not causing unnecessary trouble for me."

Sella had nothing to say to that, so Illyasviel decided to focus on helping Morgan. It was immediately obvious why Sella had been so frustrated: there was no clear style or pattern to Morgan's preferences. Fortunately, as Illyasviel's only real requirement was that the ribbon placement allowed her to see Morgan's eyes, and Illyasviel wisely kept any other opinions to herself, they ran into far fewer obstacles. The end result was that Morgan gave the overwhelming impression of having charged through a closet, during which a box of ribbons fell on her head. But, her eyes were clearly exposed, and while they did tend to shift to the sides a great deal when she was uncomfortable (which was often), they also became bright and warm when she looked at Illyasviel.

For her part, Illyasviel was genuinely amazed with herself. Normally, she was certain that she would have been unable to resist pointing out every way in which Morgan's design was flawed, and drastically inferior to that of the Einzbern homunculi. Even now, she caught herself holding her tongue. And the only reason she could find for this, other than Morgan might not understand half of the criticisms, was a feeling she was not used to: pity. Mordred had taken Morgan in, given her a name and a family. But Mordred did not have the power to change Morgan's very body or nature. And even if the chance came, Illyasviel thought that Morgan might reject it. She didn't want to change, so much as she wanted someone who was her equal. And Illyasviel did not have the heart to say that such a person, or more accurately, a corpse given new life, was unlikely to ever be found, without aid of the Holy Grail.

* * *

Shirou was not sure how long he and Irisviel had been talking when Honey suddenly rushed from the house. She looked very distressed, and though Shirou was used to her being abrupt, he still thought the way she ran to Irisviel and tried to drag her inside the house was very rude.

Irisviel, unhappy at the interruption but recognizing that Honey needed her, simply said, "Excuse me, Shirou," and left with Honey. She returned less than a minute later, looking quite amused, and gestured for Shirou to come inside. "There's a phone call for you."

Shirou did not at first understand what she meant: this was a dream, and if a phone call was interrupting, shouldn't that wake him up? But if the phone call was part of the dream, then surely it could wait until they were done? In any case, Irisviel thought it was important, so he wasn't going to ignore her. And from her reaction, it was nothing bad.

Later, he would come to wonder if she simply had a twisted sense of humor.

Before Shirou could even get the phone to his ear properly, he already heard the caller whining.

"SHIROUUUUUUUUU!"

He winced, recognizing that howl at once. "Fuji-nee?! How did you get this number?!"

"SHIROU! How dare you give your first kiss to another girl?! And to Sakura-chan, who is way too young to appreciate it! I wanted to steal... I mean, give you your first real kiss! You've taken my dream from me! Give it back, Shirou!"

"Look, crazy person, even if I knew how, I wouldn't! Don't call here again!"

Shirou hung up the phone and glared at Irisviel, who smiled serenely.

"She really is a lovely girl, isn't she?"

"No comment," Shirou said firmly.

* * *

Shirou dragged himself into the kitchen the next morning, only to find Kiritsugu half-asleep with two cups of coffee on the counter. Wordlessly, he handed one to Shirou.

"Why would I-?" Shirou began to ask.

"Wait for it," Kiritsugu said.

The phone rang.

Fearing this could mean nothing good, Shirou looked at Kiritsugu expectantly.

"It's for you," Kiritsugu said, with the tone of a man who was about to go to bed, and sleep for a month. He walked out of the kitchen, went into his bedroom, and shut the door behind him.

Shirou picked up the phone. Again, before he could get it to his ear, he knew who it was.

"SHIROUUUUUUUU!"

"Fuji-nee, stop calling me!"

"No, I won't! I've been calling all night, and Kiritsugu wouldn't let me talk to you! Shirou! How could you give your first kiss-"

Shirou hung up. The phone rang ten seconds later. And, he was starting to suspect, had been ringing for half the night. He picked it up, immediately hung up again, then quickly dialed the Tohsaka residence before anyone could call back and interrupt. The phone was answered on the first ring.

"Good morning, Shirou."

"Sakura, what happened?! Why did you tell Fuji-nee about the kiss?! You promised me!"

There was a pause. "Shirou, I promised you that I wouldn't tell nee-san about that, and I haven't. You asked me to make no such promise about Fujimura. And, honestly, it was like she could smell it on me, I had to say something."

"Wait. She was over at Rin's place?"

"Yes, she was, and we didn't invite her. I didn't even think she knew where nee-san lived. You really should have kissed Fujimura instead, if this is how she's going to be about it."

"Are you crazy? She'd be even worse then!"

"Yes, but she'd be focused solely on you. Then I wouldn't have had to deal with her sobbing at me. I almost would have preferred if she'd hit me. Anyway, I need to go. Enjoy your stalker."

Ironically, this was the first moment in which Shirou became convinced. Rin was evil because she just was. But Sakura was evil because of what the Matous had done to her. However, she was so naturally filled with goodness, that the evil was watered down into teasing.

Harmless, but still extremely effective, teasing.

He would need to watch her carefully, too, then.

Funny, how when Lancer had been preaching about honoring women, he had said nothing about this aspect of them.

* * *

Illyasviel found herself unable to sleep. She was excited to have Mordred as a Servant, as well as his entourage working for her, but that was only part of the reason. She was also unable to stop thinking about Mordred's oath to destroy the dream of the Einzberns, and hers as well, if it was the same.

But it didn't have to be. Because she now had a choice.

It would only mean turning away from everything she knew.

Which she had, admittedly, been planning to do from the start. Only now, it was crunch time, and she had to commit to a choice.

There had been no word from, or sign of, her grandfather since Mordred's arrival. And even if he had returned, she was sure that Mordred would happily defend her right to choose. So there was no real reason not to choose whatever she wanted to do.

So long as she was willing to live, or die, with the consequences.

With a sigh, Illyasviel sat up in bed and glanced around the dark bedroom. "Hey, Morgan? Are you there?"

At once, a shape hurried through the darkness, and there was a soft hiss as Morgan's mace cracked open, bathing the room in a soft, green glow.

"I can't sleep," Illyasviel said. Then, realizing that Morgan probably had no idea what to do with just that: "Will you sit with me, please?"

Morgan grunted in the affirmative, accompanying it with a jerky nod. She sat carefully on the bed, and was surprised when Illyasviel moved over to lean against her arm. It was, in Morgan's opinion, the first time that her Master had touched her for no obvious reason. It was not an unpleasant sensation. Far from it.

Outside the bedroom, Mordred nodded in satisfaction, and made her way to the nearby maid quarters. They were hardly up to a king's usual standard of lodging, but she would manage, for now. There were more important matters at hand.

Leysritt entered a moment later. "You had a concern?"

"I gave my word that I would defend my Master's right to choose. So I want to be sure that the Lesser Grail is growing properly, with my own eyes."

"That will require restricted access, King."

"I'm prepared." Mordred drew Clarent from thin air, and planted it firmly in the floor. At once, it began to glow crimson.

"Username?" Leysritt asked coolly.

"King Mordred Pendragon, Heir of Arthur."

"Primary classification?"

"Mageknight."

"Proof of right to restricted access is required."

Mordred closed her eyes and took a deep breath in. When she slowly released the breath and opened her eyes, they were pools of black, which began to overflow immediately with blood of the same color. Wordlessly, she extended her hand. The air directly above it pulsed with power, and then a silver pendant, shaped like a roaring lion's head, dropped into her waiting palm.

"Caster Class Skill: Item Creation, Rank D, confirmed," Leysritt said. "Restricted access granted." She snapped her fingers, and a holographic image of Sakura appeared.

Sakura was standing in the basement of the Matou mansion, and there was a swarm of insects moving restlessly over her bare feet and ankles, but they climbed no higher. Suddenly, Sakura stiffened, and narrowed her eyes. When she spoke, it was clearly to the pair of viewers.

"Mind your own Grail. This one is my business alone."

The image faded abruptly.

"Did she do that, or did you?" Mordred asked, wiping black blood from her face. Her eyes had returned to their usual green.

"I did," Leysritt replied. "She has a point. It is preferable that she views us as rivals, but not enemies."

"Very well. I am satisfied." Mordred thought for a moment, then tossed the pendant to Leysritt. "A token of my gratitude, for your service. You are a fine harbinger."

Leysritt blinked, then placed the pendant in her pocket. "Thank you, King." Her voice became cool once more. "Password to end session is required."

"Ah. I thought you had forgotten that part."

"Secondary classification?"

Mordred smirked, and spoke a single word.

* * *

**Sons of Thunder 2**

He was falling from a great height.

There was no need for concern on his part: the intended crash site was fast approaching, and he would not miss his target.

He had been summoned to that particular location, not by his Master's intent, but by his own nature.

What better way to greet his Master, than with the blood of her father's killer already on his hands?

The building came into sharp focus now: it was a church. But the man inside was no real priest.

"Soon," the black giant whispered, his eyes flashing red. "Master, you will-"

* * *

**The Path of Blood 3**

Berserker drank deeply of her latest victim, then tossed the limp body aside carelessly.

In her madness, she could not appreciate the vengeance, but it didn't matter.

Her grudge against humanity lived on, growing with every human life she snuffed out.

There was a dulled but definite red light, shining from beneath her blindfold.

* * *

"This isn't necessary, you know," Irisviel said.

"You said that already," Lancer replied.

"It bears repeating."

"Not really."

Irisviel frowned. "You are a Servant. You aren't here to carry out vengeance."

"Yes, I am. I'm not your standard Servant. Even before I saw my Master's face, I knew who had wronged him, and my first priority was to kill that man."

"Shirou has never even met that man-"

"And he will never meet _you_, outside of a dream, because of that fake priest." Lancer scowled. "I'll be royally pissed off, if oji-san gets to him first." His gaze moved back to Irisviel. "And that two Servants are after him, should tell you that he really needs to die. But no matter who kills him, you will be av-"

* * *

Sakura dried her hands, then opened the bathroom door.

The shadow was floating just beyond the doorway, and retracted the glowing tentacle it had stretched under the door.

"Thanks for the light," Sakura said, "and for coming with me. I really need to talk to Matou about the lighting in here at night."

The shadow offered what might have been a moan, or a groan. When it did speak, it tended to sound like many voices all saying something different, all at once. But Sakura could generally tell the difference between positive and negative responses, so she just had to remember to ask it only yes or no questions.

Sakura went back to her bedroom, with the shadow floating along silently behind her. Armor and Angel had already retired for the night, and were frozen in action poses against the wall. The remaining shadow alone never seemed to rest, but that meant it was always available if Sakura needed it for anything. Such as late night bathroom trips.

Once she was in bed, Sakura yawned, and smiled as a black tentacle carefully pulled the blanket up to her chin. "Thanks, Avenger," she murmured sleepily.

The shadow pulsed in response to its name, bathing the room in a crimson glow. Most would have found it eerie. But Sakura, who was not quite the shadow's Master, in much the same way that the Sakura currently snuggled up to Rin was not quite her sister, was already getting used to creepy things being her norm. Not as used to them as she could be, but enough where having shadows for friends, and preferring a creepy empty house to living among even creepier people in that same house, did not bother her so much. And that would be essential, because if there was one thing that was true for both Sakuras now, it would be that neither was capable of summoning a Servant that most wouldn't find creepy.

It was fortunate, then, that they would find themselves in the perfect Holy Grail War for such Servants.

**End of Chapter 3.**

* * *

**Continued in Chapter 4: Ruler Descends**

An uncommon Holy Grail War, with uncommon Servants, requires an uncommon overseer. There is no need to summon one, for he was been waiting. There will be no winner. There is only the Grail game, and as it has become a most amusing treasure, it already belongs to him. All hail the Ruler of Heroes.

* * *

**Endnotes:**

Bios for Ruler, Berserker, and a related Servant, next time.

I don't think I've ever actually seen Irisviel referred to as "Irisviel Emiya", and there's likely good reason for that. But, as the point here is to teach Shirou to honor his parents, I deem this usage to be more relevant. He's being coached to think of Einzberns as enemies, after all.

Being infested with worms for a decade would probably make anyone insane. So wouldn't it be nice if that DIDN'T happen to Sakura? And instead happened to someone who was used to far worse treatment? And Sakura was safe from Shinji and worms and Shinji and Zouken and Shinji and corruption and SHINJI.

A plot point I was always mystified by was the implication that Sakura's worms could feed on semen... but other than Shinji, there's no suggestion of where she might be getting it, until Shirou. But if Sakura can prowl the streets looking for people to eat, she can do the same looking for men to seduce... and assumedly ate them after, which would explain why Sakura didn't gain a seedy reputation around town: nobody who knew her that way lived to tell about it. I just imagine that's how it went. I can't see Shinji forcing Sakura to sleep with anyone else, as that would mean sharing her, which he doesn't like to do. Zouken might give that order, however. And between he and Sakura, I'm not sure who I want to see eating people less.

I'm sure Water and Hollow affinities probably do not work this way. But I am equally sure that the second Zouken started mixing powers, even he only had a vague idea of how it could all turn out. And of course everyone underestimated what Sakura was capable of. Which was a huge mistake.

Yes, you should read entirely too much into the shapes and names of Sakura's shadow friends.

Given how many souls have been killed or devoured or corrupted by All the World's Evil, I don't think it's a stretch that Angra Mainyu could or would have multiple manifestations at any one time. Really, it's just smart strategy, to have a few contingency plans. In this case, obviously there is a preferred Lesser Grail in mind, and certain resources have been devoted to it. But really, you could argue that the entire altered nature of this War is geared more towards protecting both Lesser Grails.

I don't know why, but the suggestion that Fujimura has the equivalent of EX rank luck fascinated me. Of course, she isn't involved in much of the more dangerous stuff, but one could argue that is her luck at work. For now, though, it's only helping her get phone numbers and addresses that she shouldn't have...

* * *

**BIOS**

Mordred Pendragon  
_Class(es):_ Mageknight, Avenger

The Mageknight class combines one of the Knight classes (in Mordred's case, Saber) with the Caster class. While this fusion might normally be more beneficial, Mordred fully embraced the role of a knight, and views the Caster class as undesirable. With her bloodline, if fully trained, she would make a superb magus... but she refuses to train as one, and has actively tried to forget what little training she does possess. As such, her only benefit from the Caster class is minimal and difficult to access. The presence of Clarent is required for Mordred to use Caster Skills: it serves as a magical tool, and in fact does the bulk of the work, while Mordred merely provides mana.

A Servant summoned with Avenger as a secondary class is a curious case. Outwardly, in most situations, they display little to no sign of being any different from standard Servants. They would identify themselves as, or agree to be addressed as, their primary class. And yet, within them burns a dark desire: to destroy those who have greatly wronged their Master. Upon encountering someone who considerably blocks their Master's joy, the Servant is seized by an overwhelming need to remove the offensive presence through any means, which even a Command Spell is powerless to prevent (for whether the Master realizes it or not, the Avenger is already acting on their behalf). But in this, there is a contradiction: for an existence so devoted its Master's happiness, one might even say that for them, the Holy Grail is not a wish-granting cup, but the realization of their Master's deepest, purest wish. And so, for some, their "Holy Grail"... may not involve the Grail at all.

_Class Skills:_

**Magic Resistance: B+**

The combination of Mordred's bloodline and Clarent's anti-magical properties ensure a superior amount of magical protection.

**Item Creation: D-E**

It wounds Mordred to revert to her mother's path, and she would strongly prefer not to. She can create small items with limited usefullness, but the drain on her is considerable.

**Avenger: B+**

Mordred can be forgiving, but is built to quickly shift to rage, and nurses longstanding grudges. Anger and ferocity are both familiar tools and natural states. Rather than fearing their king in this state, Jack and Morgan feed off and share in it without hesitation: Morgan is used to blind rage, and Jack thrives on murderous chaos.

**Self-Replenishment (Mana): C-B **

The closer Mordred moves to her mother's nature, the more her ability to regenerate mana rises.


	5. Ruler Descends

Notes: Yup, still alive. Though my appearance at various points of the day might lead you to think otherwise.

* * *

**Oathkeepers**  
**A Fate Series Fusion by**  
**Nate Grey (xman0123-at-aol-dot-com)**  
**Chapter 4: Ruler Descends**

* * *

What was it about the Emiya bloodline that kept leading him to severe miscalculations?

That was one of the many thoughts going through Elder Acht's mind as he observed the snowy forest surrounding his home.

In truth, however, it was not just the Emiya bloodline that had been plaguing his thoughts. It was every major failure that the Einzberns had suffered during each Holy Grail War. Each time, they employed a supposedly flawless strategy, and each time, it backfired.

Illyasviel should have been the most perfect Master.

Mordred... was not the perfect Servant. But, considering all the choices that had been lost to them, and the possibilites that Mordred provided, she made for a more than acceptable replacement. They were, in theory, an unbeatable duo.

Just as Kiritsugu and Arturia before them should have been. And if nothing else, it did seem that the current generation's determination to defy those who came before had resulted in considerably better teamwork.

And yet, they had still betrayed the Einzberns. And before the War could formally get under way.

This was more than just a symptom of Kiritsugu's blood at work.

This was something fundamentally flawed in the strategy of the Einzberns. Something that was either exploited to devastating effect every single time, or that they repeatedly overlooked to their detriment.

Somewhere, at some point... he had made a mistake. Which had led to a series of mistakes. And he had yet to determine exactly what that first mistake had been.

But as he turned, sensing danger, only to come face to face with the crimson, lamp-like eyes of Jack the Ripper, Elder Acht could think of one mistake he'd made: seeing the return of Angra Mainyu as a good thing.

"You're _good_ at hiding. But Jack is better at seeking!"

Elder Acht said nothing. Indeed, there was nothing to say. He had, or so he'd thought, perfected the creation of bounded fields over the course of centuries. This one in particular, while very new, should have rendered him completely undetectable, and certainly to any Servant. That had been the point.

It hadn't worked. Another mistake, then.

Jack paused, looking curious, as the crimson faded from her eyes, leaving them a sparkling green. "Hey, you aren't afraid. We like that."

Elder Acht blinked. "It should be impossible for you to-"

"It was, at first. But then Jack thought, what if we changed forms? To something that can pass through bounded fields? After that, it was easy!"

It was then that Elder Acht noticed it: the slight mist inching slowly across the floor. Poisoned, no doubt, but as he had yet to feel any ill effects, surely the amount of poison had been purposely limited. He was in no immediate danger. From the poison, at least. Although, that was probably the point.

"Onii-sama hasn't given the order yet," Jack revealed. "We don't want Master to feel forced into this. But once she decides? You're dead, and Jack will be the one to give her your head."

Elder Acht glared.

Jack grinned. "Yes, that's _perfect_! That's the look we want frozen on your face _forever_! Don't forget it, okay?" Jack turned away, about to leave, then paused. "Jack isn't like the other Servants in this War, you know. But we understand them, anyway. Needing to gut someone, not just because they deserve it, but so you can feel anything other than all-consuming hatred. We remember what that's like."

This made Elder Acht pause. Somehow, the way it was said caused something to turn over in his mind. "You're saying that... no, surely not."

Jack grinned. "Go on. Say it!"

"They can't _all_ be Avengers," Elder Acht protested.

"_You_ broke the rules. Over and over again. Now, there aren't any left to follow!" Jack giggled. "Well, there are still rules. But the ones making them are tired of the way things haven't worked so far. So the new rules are so unlike the old ones, that there might as well not be any. But it's still your fault. Who summoned the first Avenger? Who still needed to cheat at a game they helped invent? Jack doesn't care that all three of you families are cheating. We just doesn't understand how all of you can be so _lousy_ at it."

After Jack had gone, Elder Acht considered those last words for a long, long time. Of all three founding families, the Einzberns had certainly done the most to increase their odds in the Holy Grail War, with little to show for it. And to their credit, the pair of Kiritsugu and Arturia had gotten further than any Master and Servant had before. But still, the Einzberns came away from that War empty-handed, despite the facts that Irisviel had become the Grail, and Kiritsugu had been offered a wish. To come so close, and still fail... there had to be some reason.

Ironically, he concluded that depending on a proxy was the mistake: that both the Master, and the Servant, might need to be Einzberns.

It still never entered his mind, or rather, he would not allow his mind to entertain the idea that, perhaps, not only were the Einzberns not meant to possess the Holy Grail, it was quite simply impossible for them to.

* * *

**Sons of Thunder 3**

The site was a certain church in New City.

Rather, it was a certain former church in New City. Now, it was little more than a large crater. And a fitting stage, for the arrival of a son of Zeus.

No, the son of Zeus. For even among the scores of them, there was only one of such elevated fame.

The black giant breathed in, deeply. He detected the expected scents, and among them, the one he had desired: spilled blood.

He breathed out, clearly satisfied. "Master. You are avenged."

"Dammit, oji-san! That was my kill!"

The giant did not turn as a second, smaller man slid to a stop beside him. "With your speed, boy, you have no excuse for being late. It is not my fault, then, if your Master was not as overly prepared as mine."

"Yeah, well... this isn't over! Just gives me another reason to defeat you!"

"And on whose authority do you assume that you will not both be defeated here, in this very instant?" demanded a new voice.

They both froze as a third man appeared, floating in the night sky, dressed in black and glaring at them with red eyes. As far as threats went, compared to them, there was nothing immediately obvious that suggested they should be wary of him. And yet, there was no denying the tension in their bodies: clearly, they knew something that others would not.

The black giant was the first to answer. "If you are here to avenge this priest's death, then you must have some idea of what motivated us. Even if he was your Master-"

"Be _very_ careful what you say, son of Zeus," the red-eyed man warned softly. "No mere mortal commands the King of Heroes. Kotomine was a retainer of mine, nothing more."

"And you would see his death avenged?"

"Do not presume to know my mind, Saber!" the King of Heroes snapped.

The giant blinked. "Why do you call me so?"

This was an excellent question: the giant was not carrying a sword at the time, and nothing about him clearly suggested that a sword would be his weapon of choice.

The King of Heroes sneered. "Why do you waste my time by denying-?"

"I do not deny," the giant dared to interrupt, only enraging the King of Heroes further. "I merely ask how you could know my Class, when I carry no weapon, and could easily have been summoned in a number of Classes."

The King of Heroes paused, realizing that the giant was right. Heracles was one of the few Heroic Spirits that could truthfully make such a claim. And yet, there was no doubt in Gilgamesh's mind: Heracles had been summoned as a Saber for this Holy Grail War. Just as he was equally certain that the companion of Heracles was none other than Achilles, who had been summoned as a Lancer. Even as he stared at them, their parameters, Skills, and Noble Phantasms were like an open book to him.

With realization came an unnaturally wide grin. It did not seem to fit the face of the King of Heroes at all. And yet, what did seem to fit him was the supreme confidence with which he commanded, "Kneel before me."

Heracles obeyed at once, and a few seconds later, reluctantly, so did Achilles.

Laughter of the kind common only to the insane spilled from the lips of the King of Heroes. He was not laughing at them, but at the situation that they had found themselves in. And still, he needed, wanted more.

"Rise, mighty Heracles, and bless us with your Noble Phantasm!"

Heracles slowly stood up. "I will obey you, but I must ask: are you certain?"

The King of Heroes just grinned.

Heracles lifted his face to the sky. "I, Heracles, son of Zeus, speak now to my Father, who reigns on Olympus. I humbly request, share but a portion of your power with me, as proof of my divine birthright."

He had barely finished speaking when it happened: a thunderbolt the size of a skyscraper split the clouds and struck Heracles head-on. Anyone might have reasonably assumed that he got the worst of it. If true, then it was fortunate that Heracles was standing there. For despite the fact that he was, everything else in the surrounding area ceased to exist, with two notable exceptions.

Achilles, who appeared winded, and was immediately thankful to already be kneeling, so that he would not shame himself by falling to his knees.

Gilgamesh, who was laughing harder than ever, appeared to be completely unharmed. The only noticeable difference was that his clothing had been vaporized. He stood before them, unconcerned and nude.

Achilles could not look away. Which was saying something, as his appreciation for the female form was well known to those familiar with him.

But then, the glowing, crimson tattoos that covered Gilgamesh's body were very hard to look away from. Because it would have been obvious, to any Servant, who they then stood in the presence of.

"Ruler," Achilles whispered in awe.

And Gilgamesh, King of Heroes, and newly crowned Ruler of Heroes for the duration of this Holy Grail War, laughed even harder still.

* * *

The dream started off rather unlike the ones Shirou had been getting recently. But so long as it was not fire and death again, he would happily adjust.

He stood in the entrance hall of a castle. There was no other word for it, despite his never having seen one in person. He expected there might be a moat, and would not have been surprised to see a knight on horseback in the next few seconds.

"Shirou, you came!" said a happy voice, and Shirou turned, hesitating only slightly when he recognized the person hurrying toward him.

Kiritsugu had always said that if Shirou wanted to call him by name, it was fine. And even now, Shirou continued to do so. But, in his thoughts and dreams, Kiritsugu was his father, and Shirou referred to him as such. And so it was the same for Irisviel. But Shirou was far more comfortable around the photo Kiritsugu kept in his bedroom. There, she was just an idea, and he could walk away if it ever felt strange. But when confronted with the Irisviel in his dreams, Shirou found that he could not do that.

He could not lose another mother. And, if he were honest with himself, a small part of him feared that turning away from Irisviel would be no different from rejecting Illya. And certainly, Illya might take it personally, if she found out.

For her part, Irisviel greeted him as she had every other time: with a warm hug and a swift kiss on each cheek. This was embarrassing, to be sure, but Shirou allowed it because it wasn't technically happening in public. Rin would have teased him mercilessly about it, he knew. But only to keep from thinking of the days when her own mother had done the same, to her and Sakura both.

"You're just in time, they're starting now!" Irisviel said, tugging him out of the hall and into a large room.

What was starting was immediately obvious to Shirou: everywhere he looked, there were couples dancing slowly.

"But... I don't know how to dance!" Shirou protested.

"I'll teach you, silly," Irisviel assured him.

And, to his increasing embarrassment, that was exactly what happened. He apologized over and over again each time he stepped on her feet, and felt like the biggest klutz alive, but after some time, Irisviel proclaimed him to be a dancer of average quality, one that she would be happy to dance with again. He remained certain that was only because she loved him, and not because he was any good at dancing.

At that point, Shirou had been under the impression that spending time with Irisviel had been the point of the dream. It was only when they stopped dancing that he took a closer look at the other couples, and got a real shock. They weren't just random couples. Each was clearly a child and their parent. He even knew some of them.

Rin was dancing with bearded man who had to be her father. Close by, Sakura was dancing with a woman who had to be her mother.

But Kiritsugu, for no reason that Shirou could understand, was being dragged along the dance floor by his partner, who, while shorter than him, clearly had more than enough energy for the both of them.

"What is Fuji-nee doing here?" Shirou muttered, ducking his head so she wouldn't see him.

"Dancing," Irisviel replied unnecessarily. "But I think you should be looking at the rest of our family, Shirou."

Sure enough, Shirou soon spotted a little girl with white hair and red eyes across the room. "Illya?" he breathed.

Irisviel nodded, smiling sadly. "Yes."

"Then, why are we all the way over here? Shouldn't we-?"

"We aren't allowed," Irisviel said.

Shirou looked again, and realized what she meant. The section of the room that Illya was in appeared to be VIP access only, and very few people were there. He could see Illya, and what looked like some maids and bodyguards, but few others.

"But, she's so close! Can't we at least get her attention?" Shirou asked. "Maybe she can come to us!"

"I suspect that would be allowed," Irisviel said.

Shirou didn't hesitate. At the top of his lungs, he shouted, "ILLYA!"

The whole room stopped, and Illya turned to look in his direction. Her eyes widened. At once, she charged towards them, ignoring the maids and bodyguards who reached out to stop her.

Shirou realized too late that he had no idea how to greet her properly, no idea what he'd say to her.

And then Illya ran right past him, and flew into Irisviel's arms.

Blushing, Shirou turned to watch as the pair covered each other's faces in desperate kisses, laughing and crying at the same time.

"My Illya," Irisviel sighed at last, cuddling her daughter close. "I've missed you so much."

"I missed you, too." Illya blinked and finally looked at Shirou. "Who is that?" she asked, frowning.

"That's Shirou, your brother. Kiritsugu adopted him."

Illya pouted. "_I_ didn't get a say in that."

Shirou bristled.

"Don't be that way, Illya," Irisviel said gently. "Shirou has been very eager to meet you."

"Really?" Illya seemed to reconsider on the spot. "I guess he is kind of cute." She tilted her head slightly, then nodded. "Alright, Shirou. I will do you the honor of saving a spot on my dance card for you. You're so lucky!"

"Clearly," Shirou sighed.

"I'll be back to collect you later. But don't let me catch you dancing with _anyone_ unworthy of my brother!" she warned, smiling, but in a tone that promised painful things if he failed her. And with that, she was gone, hurrying back to the VIP side.

"She didn't even ask about Kiritsugu," Shirou noted sadly.

"That is a bridge that still needs mending," Irisviel admitted, noticing the similar expression on Kiritsugu's face as he watched Illya leave.

Illya's dance card didn't seem to be so much full as it was reserved for a single person: a handsome blonde with piercing green eyes who commanded attention with an ease that Shirou found unnatural. Illya looked happy dancing with him, at least, so Shirou kept his unflattering thoughts to himself.

As the night progressed, the number of bodyguards and maid were reduced considerably, to the point where Shirou convinced Irisviel to move a little closer to the VIP section. They were confronted, almost immediately, by a smartly dressed man in a black suit that Shirou mistakenly thought was a bodyguard.

"It's been a long time, Irisviel," the bodyguard said.

Irisviel beamed. "It's so good to see you again, Saber."

"Ah. For the time being, addressing me by that name could prove problematic."

"Arturia, then?" Irisviel suggested hopefully.

The bodyguard smiled. "For one to address me in such a familiar manner, I would have to insist on a dance first."

Irisviel squealed in pleasure, grabbed Arturia (which Shirou thought was an odd name for a guy) by the arm, and dragged him out to the middle of the dance floor.

Shirou wondered if Kiritsugu would be bothered by that, but realized this might be a great chance to talk to Illya. She was still dancing with the handsome blonde, but as Shirou approached them, he soon found his path blocked by a veiled maid. Any thoughts of trying to persuade her to move were lost when Shirou spotted the war hammer in her hand. That she was also growling at him convinced Shirou that maybe he was better off with the bodyguard that was dancing with Irisviel. Which meant he had to wait until they were done, and they took an unusually long time to return. More convinced than ever that Kiritsugu might need to be worried about this, Shirou made a beeline for them as they left the dance-floor.

Arturia was the first to spot him. "And this must be the young Shirou you mentioned, Irisviel."

"Yes, that's my son," Irisviel said proudly, making Shirou blush. "Shirou, I'd like you to meet Arturia. An old friend of mine. And, I suppose I should say, a former associate of Kiritsugu's."

This only gave Shirou the worrying impression that Arturia no longer associated with Kiritsugu because something inappropriate had happened concerning Irisviel. But that would have to wait.

"I'm trying to talk to Illya, but people keep getting in my way. Can you help me?" Shirou asked.

"That will be tricky, but perhaps..." Arturia murmured.

Shirou was about to suggest an idea when he saw, with some dismay, that the veiled maid with the war hammer was coming straight at them. With no clear idea of why he did it, he hid behind Arturia, who turned to face the approaching threat.

"Morgan, my dear," Arturia said warmly, bringing the veiled maid to an abrupt halt. "Is anything the matter?"

To Shirou's shock, he could see a considerable blush forming on the maid's cheeks as she hesitantly edged closer and tugged lightly at Arturia's sleeve. She murmured something under her breath, but Shirou either couldn't hear or couldn't understand the words.

"You will have to excuse me," Arturia said to Irisviel and Shirou. "I cannot possibly refuse a request to dance from my charming granddaughter." He nodded to them both, then whisked Morgan off to the dance-floor.

With the path to Illya much clearer now, Shirou tried once more to talk to her, only to this time be blocked by the handsome blonde she was still dancing with.

"You will not speak with my Master at this time. Another time, perhaps. But for now, I think you had better deal with your other dance partners."

Shirou glanced over his shoulder, only to find that Fuji-nee, Sakura, and even Rin all seemed to want to dance with him, and none were willing to wait their turn. Irisviel was no help, as she had found her way to Kiritsugu at last, and Shirou could already tell there would be no interrupting that pair. Which made him happy, and yet distressed, because now he had no allies to help cover his escape.

* * *

Iri had managed to pry the blonde away from Illya long enough to get a few mother-daughter dances.

Kiritsugu watched from across the room, helpless. Illya hadn't even looked in his direction. But she had looked in every other, so she knew he was there. He understood her rejection, even felt he deserved it. The memory of what he'd done within the Holy Grail... even if it wasn't real, he had done it, and it would never fade. And nor should it.

He didn't deserve to hold Illya in his arms again. But to see her once more, and be so close to her, it was torture.

Naturally, that was when Sakura approached him.

He had been hoping that, with her parents there, she would keep her distance. Surely, she would not be so bold as to risk revealing the true nature of her relationship to her parents. Even if this was a dream, he could not imagine that Sakura would do such a thing to herself.

So when Sakura spoke, she said the last thing he'd ever expected to hear from her.

"You need to be very careful, Emiya-sensei. You're in grave danger."

Kiritsugu risked looking into her eyes, and saw something there he never had before: genuine concern. It could only mean one thing, impossible as it seemed: this was not the Sakura he knew.

"I can't tell if she loves you or hates you. But either way, I don't think it will end well for you."

What she was saying made no sense to him. But why should it have? None of this was making sense. How could she be Sakura, but not be Sakura?

"I'll do my best to keep her calm. She isn't dangerous to me, but... I think she'll destroy you, whether she means to or not. The way she looks when she talks about you... it's like you're her possession. Something she can keep always, or throw away at any time. But only after it's used up and broken."

The more Sakura talked, the more Kiritsugu began to understand. This Sakura... she wasn't... she hadn't been...

"You're _pure_," he said softly, clearly amazed.

Sakura blushed, even further proof. "Is that really important right now?"

He almost told her that it was extremely important. Instead, he asked, "What can I do?"

She understood at once. He was not asking about himself. He was asking how he could help her.

"What you have been doing: teaching. I'm fine. Worry more about yourself."

She was kind. Too kind. Too likely to protect others, instead of herself. And Kiritsugu could already see where that would lead, reduced as any magical foresight in him would have been at the time. "Will you promise me something, Sakura? Even if it makes no sense to you right now?"

Sakura hesitated. When she did, Kiritsugu leaned in and grasped her shoulders.

"Don't _ever_ give away your Servant," he hissed. "Forget about the Holy Grail and the War. A Servant is there, first and foremost, to protect you. Even if it doesn't seem like it, they need you to exist here. They have to protect you. And the worst thing you could do, is leave yourself vulnerable. Or hand your best weapon to someone who might use it against you."

Sakura blinked. "What-?"

But Kiritsugu had already released her and moved away, having noticed that Tokiomi was quickly approaching them.

Sakura stared after Kiritsugu, not truly understanding anything he'd said, but certain that he'd felt it was important.

* * *

**The Path of Blood 4**

There was pain when she woke up, but it was slight, and certainly not on the degree of what she would have expected. Even now, Medusa could still hear the sound of her former Master's bones crunching in her grasp.

Wait. No. She could still hear it. It was still happening. Only, somewhere behind her.

Fearing the worst, she turned, and could not contain a gasp of horror at the sight that awaited her eyes. And yet, she viewed it through a blanket of confusion, because the perspective made no sense.

Medusa was watching her own body bite deeply into the neck of a human male. This presented several problems. First, as her current perspective insisted, she was not in her body at the time. Second, the man was decidedly different in appearance from the Master she had killed, and yet, there were still Command Spells on his hand, which faded as her body continued to drink. Third, and perhaps most alarming, when she tried to reach out and protest, the hand and arm that passed before her eyes were much, much smaller and shorter than she remembered them being.

But she did remember them, if only faintly.

Confusion took priority over horror. Her gaze dropped to take in the rest of her... new body? No, she realized with growing confusion and shock. Not her new body. Definitely her new old body, perhaps. Because she had not been this small, this young, this... clean, since she was but a child herself.

And at last, amidst all the confusion, there was a ray of hope: Medusa was a young goddess again. Never a perfect one, but that hardly mattered at all now. She was untainted. She could avoid the horrid fate that befell her and her precious sisters. She would not become the Other.

But only, she saw with dismay, because her former adult body seemed to be well on the way to doing so in her place. Even now, it licked its lips and opened its mouth wide, preparing to sink its fangs even deeper.

"Stop!" Medusa wailed, and to her surprise, her former body obeyed at once, dropping the dead man and turning toward her, sinking into a passive crouch. Perhaps there was still a connection between them, one that could be used, if she understood it correctly. But the truth was, she really didn't yet. Few things were likely to be able to pierce through the haze that came with the Berserker Class.

And that was the key, she recognized with a start. Her former body was a Berserker now. Oddly, though, she had no idea why that should result in her form splitting. She could not even be sure what the status of her new body was. There were no Command Spells on it that she could see, so she was not a Master. But if she was a Servant, then the knowledge of her current Class was unknown to her, which was not normal.

And yet, her former body had obeyed her, when only its Master, now dead, should have been able to command it. But there was no sign of that Master now, and the presence of this different, newly dead Master indicated that circumstances had repeated themselves: Berserker had killed first her own Master, and then the Master who had somehow summoned this second body of hers. That would not explain why her Class was unknown, but it was a start.

Another look at her body revealed something she had missed before: she carried no obvious weapons or tools, further obscuring her Class, but making her suspect that she was a Caster.

A soft whine at her ear distracted her, and Medusa looked up to find Berserker leaning over her, offering another questioning whine. Without thinking, she reached up and gently pressed her right hand to Berserker's cheek, passing her thumb over the bloodstained lips. The whine became something more like a deep sigh, and Berserker nuzzled against her hand.

"We are still connected," Medusa whispered with certainty, and Berserker stiffened at once, leaning even closer, as if physical distance between them was itself an obstacle that she wanted to overcome. At first, Medusa mistook this as an attempt to fuse their bodies back into one form. But as she watched in silence, Berserker became increasingly agitated, shifting restlessly from side to side, and again moving even closer to her, until it became clear that simple physical affection was not the answer.

"What do you want?" Medusa asked, and Berserker let out a gasp, lips stretching into an unmistakable smile.

The answer was so simple, when she truly thought about it.

"You just... want me to talk to you, don't you?" Medusa murmured. "You miss this voice... because it's the only thing that's anywhere close to... them being here again."

Berserker was ecstatic now, rocking back and forth in what perhaps passed as satisfaction. But happiness? Medusa wasn't even sure that was truly possible, now.

Medusa's Class didn't truly matter, nor did her lack of tools. Her voice itself was weapon enough to soothe and command Berserker. She could figure the rest out later. But the most immediate concern was their shared Masterless state. They would not last long that way, without a steady mana source. But Berserker had already provided an answer there, even if it wasn't an acceptable one: they had to feed. Yet Medusa could think of no better way than that, to quickly put her back on the path to the Gorgon, which was to be avoided at all costs.

Berserker whined again, leaning forward, as if urging Medusa to use her. And that was an answer in itself, although not one Medusa was fond of. Heaping all of the darkness onto Berserker was a temporary fix at best. They would likely be joined again, at some point. And even if they weren't, was there any real point to Medusa remaining pure, if it only meant she was there to see Berserker become the Gorgon reborn?

"I can't do that to you," Medusa whispered, staring at Berserker.

"It will happen, whether you do nothing, or everything, little one. How many times must I say it?"

Medusa gasped, glancing around, but unable to see the speaker. She knew that voice, however. "You?! How are you here?!"

"I'm not. But we are all connected, as you should know. You were so insistent on not becoming me, that I thought I'd give you a chance to prove me wrong. So when I saw you becoming Berserker, I did the only thing I could do: ripped out your Divinity and mind, and poured them into an untainted form. I don't expect any thanks, but you could at least pretend to be grateful."

"H-How?! And if you could do this, then-!"

"No, little one. I could not stop my own transformation. Rather, I would not, so do not ask. But there are always rules that can be stretched, broken where the Holy Grail is concerned. I took advantage. So, I invite you to do the impossible. Keep your former body from becoming the Gorgon, survive and win the Holy Grail War, and make your wish come true. Will you wish to be reunited with your sisters? Or make it so I never come to exist? I admit, I am curious what you will come up with."

"I don't understand! How I am supposed to win anything? Without a Master-!"

"And who do you think Berserker considers to be her Master? That fool who summoned her, or you?"

Medusa hesitated. "Even if that's true, _I'm_ a Servant myself! But if I drink blood, then-"

"Are you being this dense on purpose? If you would keep your Divinity intact, then Berserker must feed enough for you both, and you must take mana from her."

"No! You're only saying that so she'll turn into _you_!"

"You are the one unwilling to taint your current body. If it were up to me, I would have you both drink blood. You have little choice: feed yourself, or have Berserker provide nourishment. She does not appear unwilling. If anything, you can control exactly how much she feeds. Without you, there would be nothing even approaching restraint. You do not recognize your Class because you are unwilling to claim it, and what it would mean for you both. But it is the only way: to survive, to win, to grant your wish. You are Berserker's Master, and there is only one Class that could hope to keep her in check. Speak it aloud, and its armaments will come to you. Then you-"

"That is _quite_ enough rule-breaking for now, little goddess," an amused voice interrupted. "Hang your head in shame and fear, and with what little time you have left, beg for whatever small mercy I may bestow upon you."

Medusa cowered in fear of the man who appeared before her. Berserker did not, but sensing her other's distress, she automatically moved between them, growling at the man.

The man smiled, his crimson tattoos gleaming ominously. "Oh? _This_ one knows no fear. Shall I teach her, what it means to fear me?"

"Please don't," Medusa whispered. "She can't help it. The way she is now, things like fear and joy are just words."

"But she does have instinct. And that will allow her to learn to submit or flee from a superior power."

Medusa shook her head. "She would never run, if it would expose me to danger. And she would only submit if I told her to. Please, I've told you, she-"

"-Doesn't understand. But you do, I see." The man paused, considering. "It is not sporting, to attack one such as her, who cannot appreciate the greatness of her hunter. And yet, attacking you, who can, would only force her to act as your shield. I admit to being unsatisfied with this situation. Punishing you in the way I had intended would not truly be punishment for you both." With a smirk, he raised his voice. "You, there! Other, was it? Tell me, what does the little goddess fear most?"

The response was not immediate, but it was truthful. "Becoming me. That is the point of no return, for her: when her madness gives way to inhumane reason."

"And you would have her participate in the Holy Grail War?"

"That is not in my power to decide, but yours, Ruler. Whether she returns to me now, or after the War, is of no concern to me. She is chained to me by fate."

"What an appropriate way of phrasing the perfect punishment," Ruler said, nodding as he turned to Medusa. "Very well, little goddess. You may continue to play my game. And you may even cheat, if you like. But there is one rule that I will have you obey: state your Class at once, and then speak the lines of the summoning that will bind you to Berserker as her Master. That is your punishment."

Medusa hung her head. "I-I am Rider," she stated.

At once, Berserker's body jerked, and four lengths of blood-coated chains erupted from her back. The chains began to dance at once, writhing so much like snakes as Berserker sank to all fours in exhaustion and terrible pain.

"Now, speak the lines of the summoning," Ruler ordered.

With tears in her eyes, and no other choice, Medusa opened her mouth.

"Let thine eyes be clouded with the fog of turmoil and chaos.  
Thou, who art trapped in a cage of madness  
And I, the summoner who holds thy chains!"

The words were barely out of Medusa's mouth when all four chains flew toward her, dragging Berserker along with them. As a small mercy, Berserker appeared too tired to scream. But the chains did not fly to Medusa's hands, as she expected. Rather, they seemed to vanish before they could reach her. And yet, there was no mistaking what it meant, when the heavy, iron shackles appeared around her own neck, wrists, and ankles. She could not see or touch the chains that connected to them, but she knew they were there, all the same.

"I wonder how far you'll go in my game, Rider and Berserker," Ruler said. "It's not unheard of for teams to form, even between Servants. But you two are truly unique. So I'll give you one last gift. Think of it as... yes, a memento from your dearly departed sisters. To remind you that you're only being allowed to cheat in my game, because you have the right. The divine right."

After Ruler had gone, Medusa knelt and gently stroked Berserker's hair. "I'm so sorry to ask even more of you, my dear one. Will you please share your strength with me?"

Berserker did not respond, but the chains in her back flashed and swelled with stolen power, and Medusa felt a rush of mana pouring into her body. So much, in fact, that she was unable to help the pained smile that settled on her face. This was far more than just two feedings' worth. Berserker may have come straight to this location to find her, but there had obviously been some snacking along the way. It was silly to have worried about mana. The way Berserker was now, getting more was second nature. It was an instinct that Medusa could forcibly suppress, but there was little point: they needed mana to survive, and Berserker had the lion's share of it. So even if Medusa refused to feed, she would be the first to expire. And then Berserker would just gorge herself, anyway.

There was no choice. Not really.

Medusa shook her head slowly. The request she'd been about to form died on her lips. If this was the role that had been thrust upon her, she could not be weak.

"Rise, Berserker."

After only a brief pause, Berserker shuddered and slowly stood up. The very act of drawing herself to her full height seemed unnatural now, and not because she'd been commanded.

Medusa sighed. "We won't make it very far, with you in this condition. We need to hunt."

At once, Berserker fell to all fours, her body tensed for action.

Without stopping to question it, Medusa climbed onto Berserker's back. The chains immediately wrapped around her, until they created a snug, but not too tight, harness.

Berserker growled and threw herself forward in a powerful lunge. Her movement was a strange combination of human and beast, but it was clearly more beast than anything else.

Medusa - no, Rider, she had to get used to that title now - buried her face in Berserker's long hair. "I won't let either of us become monsters," she swore.

It was, by no means, meant to be an empty promise. But with Berserker's hands already stained with blood, and Rider now allowing it, monsters were something they had already become.

* * *

Illyasviel woke up to the definite sensation of being watched. At first, she assumed that it was only Morgan, who, despite all appearances, was rather nice to have around. It was a great deal like having a dog, especially with the constant growling.

But it wasn't Morgan. It was Mordred, who seated in a chair beside the bed, looking on in silence.

Illyasviel blushed and immediately pulled the blanket up to her chin.

"Good morning, Master," Mordred said calmly. "Did you sleep well?"

"Um, yes," Illyasviel muttered. "What are you doing in here?"

"Jack insisted on making you breakfast in bed. I thought I had better supervise the effort."

In that instant, Jack burst through the door, carry a tall stack of thickly-sliced, buttered toast on a plate, and a selection of fruit juices on a tray. Afterward, Illyasviel could not decide why any of that had required supervision: the toast was good, if a bit thicker than she preferred, and the juice was fresh and cool. She made sure to thank Jack with a good deal of petting.

Mordred, however, did not leave when Jack did, and remained seated in the chair.

"Did you want to tell me something?" Illyasviel finally asked.

"That depends. Have you given any thought to what we discussed earlier?"

She nodded. "It's... not that I want to become the Holy Grail. I remember dreaming about it when I was younger. It was very scary. But I never really thought I had a choice. I told myself I did, and I wanted to be free, but people tell themselves lots of things. It doesn't mean-"

"We can save you, if you let us," Mordred interrupted. "But you must order us to do it, Illya. If you say you want to live, we will use all of our power to protect your existence."

"But you're Servants. You'll go away, eventually. And because I'm a homunculus, I won't live very long."

Mordred leaned closer. "Even assuming that was all true, is that any reason to live unhappily when you don't have to? Believe in us, Illya. We were each able to make considerable impacts upon human history. Just imagine what we might be capable of, with our might at your back, the Holy Grail in hand, and no one standing in our way. Instead of becoming a tool to grant wishes, you could have your own wish granted instead."

Illyasviel blushed. "And if I wished to become _your_ queen?"

Mordred shook her head. "Forgive me, Master, but that would be a wasted wish. I could teach you everything you would need to know, so long as you were willing to learn. But that would require you to plan on living."

"You really think I could be a queen, Mordred?"

"If you can become a mud-spewing goblet, a queen should be much easier by comparison."

Illyasviel decided not to comment on that. "So why did you have to supervise Jack? The food wasn't bad."

"Jack originally wanted to make bangers and mash. Except, where some like their meat still mooing, Jack likes hers still screaming. I assumed you would not. That sort of thing _really_ does change the flavor of the meat."

Illyasviel stared at Mordred with wide eyes. "I imagine it would."

* * *

**The Path of Blood 5**

Caster's laughter filled the temple as she floated just behind her brand new Servant. It had been so easy, to cut the bond between Berserker and Rider. And now, Berserker belonged to her, body and soul. Not in mind, of course, but then, this was a Berserker, after all.

"I almost feel bad for you, Rider," Caster teased. "So I'll show you a little mercy. I won't order Berserker to kill you. Not right away, at least. You can have... oh, a single minute's head start."

Rider didn't move. "You are the one who should be pitied. You're a vulture, only able to feed off of someone else's scraps. That must be such an empty existence."

The dark humor faded from Caster's voice at once. "Kill her, Berserker," she whispered in her Servant's ear.

The chains at Berserker's back writhed violently, and Caster let out a choked gasp as she was impaled, blood flying from her mouth as the chains tore out of her back.

"Why?" Caster whispered, even as her form faded.

"Because it wasn't the right voice," Rider sighed, even as Berserker returned to her side. "Mine is the only voice Berserker would obey." She reached up to lightly stroke Berserker's cheek. "We should keep moving, my dear one."

Berserker scooped up Rider at once, and in an instant, they were gone.

But in that empty temple, in the wake of that death, and the Servant who caused it, something began to stir.

* * *

Kiritsugu had been a teacher before, with Irisviel and Maya, but this was the first time he had felt true pride in the role.

As before, Shirou was not a natural magus. He had to work hard, and he did. Kiritsugu could not say what, exactly, inspired the boy's devotion to magecraft. It was not just the dream of Illya. Or the friendship with Lancer. Or even the newfound appreciation for both Irisviel and Honey. Perhaps it was all of the above. Whatever the reason, Shirou adjusted quickly to Honey's magical crest, to the point where Kiritsugu wondered if Shirou would have managed on his own, even without Avalon sealed within him. But of course, Kiritsugu never once considered taking Avalon back for himself. He was on borrowed time now, and between the Matou worms and Sakura's influence, his vitality had increased as much as it would or should. Shirou would be the one to continue his work if he failed, and so Avalon belonged with the son, not the father.

Rin was very much a natural magus, and between her own high potential and her father's extensive preparations, Kiritsugu could not see how she would have ever managed to be anything else. Lucky, then, that she very much desired that outcome, or else she would have been a very unhappy girl. Of all his students, Rin was the only one who demanded extra lessons and more specialized teaching, and Kiritsugu found he was happy to give them. Beyond that, he believed he could trust the fate of Emiya magecraft (and Shirou) to Rin... once she was older and had matured a bit, anyway.

Sakura flourished in almost the exact way that Kiritsugu expected her to: by surpassing his expectations at every turn. Indeed, she was routinely even surpassing human limitations, and it was that, more than anything else, that convinced Kiritsugu of her true identity. But he did not expose her, not even to Rin, for fear of the grave consequences. Instead, he continued to behave as he had, which seemed to be her preference, for he knew that she knew he knew. And he had to trust that the pure Sakura, wherever she was, was safe. At least, there was no notable change in aggression that would have pointed toward the pure one's demise. He would have to trust that Rin and Shirou would prove capable of handling the situation, hopefully with some help from Illya and the real Sakura.

* * *

Rin had a certain attitude about her father's death. She accepted that he was dead, of course: she had gone to his funeral, and she had never seen him alive after that. Even so, she did not act as if his presence had been removed completely from her life. She would set aside regular tributes for him: small gifts that she thought he would like, or simple proof of a recent accomplishment of hers. And, too, she would attribute small mishaps in her life to him randomly testing her, as had been his habit.

Sakura didn't think much of any of that, but Rin suspected that was because their father had given Sakura away. Rin was the only Tohsaka that Sakura thought of as family anymore, and in some ways, it was easier for Sakura to look at it from that perspective.

The point was, of the two of them, only Rin trusted that their father's spirit was not so much departed as it was lingering in the background. So only she was capable of recognizing its manipulations, or at least claiming she did. But even there, as her father had known she would, Rin needed some coaching.

When the mysterious woman first appeared in the Tohsaka home on what would have been Tokiomi's birthday, Rin had not trusted her at all.

Even so, the woman was able to provide undeniable proof that she was currently in the employ of the Tohsaka family, and that she had been tasked with seeing to Rin's protection until the next Holy Grail War began. Or more precisely, until Rin had successfully summoned a Servant. The woman knew things that only someone who had been close to Rin's father should have known, things that even Kirei was not privy to.

And beyond that, there was something about the woman that made Rin want to trust her. Which was more than she had ever been able to say about Kirei, and her own father had trusted him above all others.

It only made sense when the woman revealed her name - or rather, her True Name - to Rin. However, she insisted that Rin only ever refer to her by a simpler title: Archer.

Rin had wondered about the animal ears and tail (Archer stubbornly insisted that they were lion ears, but having always wanted a cat, Rin decided that she knew cat ears when she saw them), but soon came to enjoy the sight of them. She was not allowed to touch them, although Rin hoped that rule would be relaxed in time.

Kirei refused to comment on Archer, or her apparent Master. And that was sign enough that Rin could trust Archer.

Sakura was a different case. She and Archer were polite, but clearly uneasy around each other, though neither would say why. Rin only cared that Archer's presence did not change Sakura's mind about living in the same house as Rin, and that Archer either accepted Sakura, or at least kept quiet about her instead.

* * *

When Shinji Matou first learned that he had a new sister, he naturally felt threatened. Even as a young boy who didn't know everything, he already understood that positions in the Matou family, unless tempered by a constant stream of accomplishments, were tenuous at best.

Neither of his parents had managed to make their own positions all that secure. That Sakura had been brought in at all pointed toward their inability to provide suitable children. Which meant, of course, that Shinji was not suitable. And so his own position was indeed in jeopardy, even before Sakura appeared. But it was still easier to blame her, than to admit that.

Sakura didn't have a problem accepting his hatred. Sakura didn't have a problem accepting anything, really. No matter how much she was mistreated in the Matou house, she never complained, or showed any sign that she was unhappy. Mostly, she just endured everything with the same, dead look on her face.

Shinji came to realize that he hated that, too. He wanted her to cry, to scream, to show that she was being broken. Instead, it seemed more like she had been broken a long time ago, and that nothing the Matous did bothered her now. He wanted her to suffer, and more than that, he wanted to be the one who broke her.

First, he tried cruel words. Then hitting her. Then destroying her belongings. But none of it mattered to her.

So Shinji targeted the things that did matter to her. And that backfired instantly.

He tried to seduce Rin Tohsaka, in the hopes of luring her away from Sakura, and got a black eye and a bloody nose for his troubles.

He tried to befriend Shirou Emiya, in the hopes of luring him away from Sakura, and got a blank stare for his efforts. Finally, Shirou simply said that he had enough friends, and didn't need a new one. And when Shinji suggested that one of those old friends be replaced, Shirou just shook his head and walked away.

Quite by accident, Shinji found something that he felt sure would work. As she matured, Sakura became a beautiful young woman that any man, young or old, would be lucky to have.

So Shinji raped her.

But only once.

He did not regret it until the following morning, when a painful, burning sensation made itself known in his private parts. An informative trip to the doctor revealed that Shinji had the unfortunate luck to develop "a cocktail of nearly every sexually-transmitted disease known to man", or so the stunned doctor insisted on calling it. Furthermore, the doctor advised Shinji to not only stop having sex immediately, but to never have it again, unless his desire was to kill all future sexual partners, but only after first assuring his own end. And the doctor would feel the need to report Shinji to the authorities, in that situation.

Shinji had to take over twenty medications daily. Most did not interact with each other very well, and rather than clearing up his condition, they really just made it somewhat tolerable. So long as he was naked, in a confined space, and not at all aroused at any time. Any other time, he suffered from frequent stiffness (in his limbs), dizziness, and the original burning sensation (which never quite went away, so much as it was dulled, briefly, for a few minutes each day).

A few days later, Shinji had just left school when something hit him hard from behind. He woke up in an alley with his pants yanked down and Rin standing over him. She appeared even more furious than usual when dealing with him. She told him in a very clipped tone, that from now on, anything he did to Sakura, Rin would do to him. Which she immediately demonstrated with a small length of steel pipe, and no lubrication. Naturally, she did not believe Shinji's truthful claims that sex was the furthest thing from his mind anymore.

And, if nothing else, Sakura clearly had not told Shirou what she'd told Rin, because his attitude toward Shinji didn't change at all. Which was to say he continued to avoid Shinji.

The worst part, by far, for Shinji, was that he could not effectively discipline Sakura. The one time he had dared to involve his grandfather, Zouken had howled with laughter at Shinji's misfortunes. Then the old man had forced Shinji to attend a family dinner, where he had to sit across from Sakura, and act like she wasn't teeming with all the diseases currently swarming over his privates.

Which, for some reason, she had always done in excellent fashion. He couldn't understand how she didn't simply melt or explode, she should have practically been radioactive.

Even then, Sakura still seemed to hold no ill will toward Shinji. In fact, sometimes he would catch her smiling at him. Not in a way that implied she knew what she'd done to him. More like a way that indicated she not only didn't mind what he'd done to her, but that she'd come to expect it, and was glad that someone had lived up to her expectations. It was a very strange sensation. Still, it was far preferable to the burning, anyway. But then, most things were.

* * *

Rin had long ago banished the evil existences known as alarm clocks from her home. At the time, she had thought, or at least hoped, that this would result in a life filled with sleeping in late, and getting up whenever she pleased.

Naturally, her father would not have allowed it. And so, neither did Archer.

Every day, precisely when Archer thought Rin should get up, a thin but persistent beam of light would stream through the window, and land unfailingly on Rin's face. Despite whether it was still dark out, if the window was shut and covered, or no matter how deeply Rin had buried herself under the blanket.

Rin despised that beam of light. But, since she had so far failed to escape from or destroy it, the only thing she could do was get up when it came for her.

This day was no different. And yet, it was.

Rin had actually been looking forward to waking up on this day. She was about to start a new school year, and after months apart, she would be with Sakura (and yes, Shirou, too) again. Rin hadn't liked that separation, but she understood: they had all attempted specialized training regimens carefully designed by Kiritsugu. That was, unfortunately, about all he could do. His mysterious illness had not yet claimed his life, but it had left him completely confined to his bed. Rin made a point to visit him every week, but beyond reviewing her lessons, he did not have the patience for much else. She could understand why his condition would make him irritable, but it was hard to accept that side of the man who had taught her nearly as much as her father had.

Not for the first time, Rin wondered if Shirou's sudden "internship" with Sisigou had just been a way to get out of the house, and away from Kiritsugu.

Sakura, at least, had no choice: her own training with the Matous had become far more time-consuming as she grew older. At first, she had still spent most nights at Rin's house, but was often gone before Rin woke up. But when Rin began to notice that some part of Sakura's training apparently called for nudity (Sakura was often so tired, she claimed to "forget" to get dressed before she left the Matou house), Rin could not keep silent about it. Sakura's response, or perhaps Zouken's, was for Sakura to stop visiting entirely. At least, while Rin was awake. But Archer, always on high alert for intruders, made a point to mention whenever Sakura came by in the middle of the night. And, too, there was sometimes the impression of a second body in Rin's bed, and only Sakura had ever shared it. Rin just wished they were still on speaking terms. She never wanted to fight with Sakura, but sometimes, the differences between them were just too great for Rin to ignore. Or more accurately, Rin wasn't the type of elder sister who could ignore such things.

But now, they would be at school together once more. And while Sakura still didn't have to talk to Rin, at least Rin would be able to see her consistently again. Rin suspected she might be able to convince Shirou to help repair the rift between the two sisters. Sakura had taken to calling him "onii-san", much to Shirou's discomfort and Shinji's fury (Rin enjoyed both reactions, as Sakura still referred to Shinji as "Shinji-san"). Rin only needed to remind Shirou of a brother's duty to look after his sisters. And while Shirou was reluctant to consider Rin his sister, he preferred that to being teased about having to one day marry her. But his reactions had evolved from firm refusals to blushing and muttering, which Rin saw as progress (he may have been in denial, but Rin had determined that his tireless work effort, generally good heart, and unique blend of magecraft would make for excellent breeding stock).

It was, in other words, shaping up to be an excellent day in Rin's mind. That is, enough positive things to look forward to, with just a hint of challenge tossed in for flavor. She was in such a good mood that she decided to walk to school, rather than allowing Archer to drive her.

Archer merely stared at Rin for an instant, then nodded. "Shall I pick you up from school this afternoon, Rin-sama?"

Rin nodded. "Yes, thank you, Archer. Hopefully, I'll have Sakura with me."

"Understood. I hope you have a pleasant day, Rin-sama."

Rin paused. "Archer... sorry, but could I-?"

"Of course, Rin-sama." Archer swiftly produced a leather case and opened it. Inside was the very Azoth Dagger that had once belonged to Rin's father, and then Kirei. The blade had been carefully maintained and was virtually untouched, save for the curious addition of two crimson stars near the tip.

"I'm leaving, otou-san," Rin murmured, bowing slightly. Only when Archer had shut the case did Rin turn to leave. It was not that she didn't trust Archer. But the Azoth Dagger had ceased to be a simple heirloom, and was now more an active symbol of Tokiomi's spirit. Especially since Rin had never actually given the blade to Archer, and Servants did not typically just come into existence without first being summoned by someone. Rin had confirmed several times that she was not Archer's Master. Which Rin wouldn't have minded, but she did desire the feeling of accomplishment that would come from summoning her very own Servant. And, too, she did not like the idea of her father's spirit doing everything for her. She wasn't a baby anymore, and much as she adored her father, she believed he would have been supremely disappointed if she spent the rest of her life being a professional descendant, rather than a magus of her own design.

* * *

Sisigou and Honey had just finished their usual breakfast of black coffee and burnt toast - or rather, Sisigou had just finished while Honey stared ahead blankly - when there was a loud yawn behind them.

"Oi, old man. Don't you ever eat anything else?"

Sisigou grunted. "Obviously not. And you don't have time to eat, or complain about what I'm eating. Unless you want to be late for the first day of school?"

"I can make it if I run. Which I plan to. And if I've got time to run, then I've got time to eat."

A quick hand stole a slice of toast from Sisigou and stuffed it into a hungry mouth before he could protest. The mouth chewed, swallowed, and gagged, which Sisigou decided was punishment enough.

"Later, old man. Oh, and one more thing."

Sisigou frowned as the boy - no, he was truly a young man, now - leaned down to carefully secure what was obviously a homemade necklace around Honey's neck. "Thanks for everything," Shirou murmured in her ear, brushing a tender kiss against her cheek.

"Keep your crumb-infested lips off my wife, brat," Sisigou said, almost absently.

"I didn't hear her complain," Shirou teased, bolting for the door as Sisigou started to rise.

Shaking his head, Sisigou settled back down, only to scowl as he noticed a lone tear slipping down his wife's cheek. "Aw, Honey, no! Don't tell you're sweet on another Emiya?! Why is it always the jerks?! And yes, I'm including myself in that!"

* * *

"Come, Sakura Tohsaka. It is safe now."

Sakura raised her head to stare at the mirror on the wall. Matou had already reached through and was extending her hand to Sakura in invitation.

"Are you sure, Matou?" Sakura asked.

"Yes. No harm will come to you on this side now. Please, join me. This is the day we have been working for."

Still, Sakura hesitated. "Well... let me say goodbye to the others first." She turned to Armor, Angel, and Avenger, who had all gathered around her.

Matou shook her head. "There is no need. You will see them on this side, soon enough."

"Oh." Sakura glanced uncertainly at each shadow, then nodded to them. "Then... see you all soon."

Armor and Angel both bowed to her. But, as Sakura turned to take Matou's hand, she saw Avenger moving toward her, apparently not ready to be parted yet. It was sweet, though not a level of affection she would have expected from it. It was too late, however: Matou's hand had closed around Sakura's and was pulling her through, even as Avenger's dark tendrils clung to the back of Sakura's dress and her ankles.

And when the mirror resealed itself, Armor and Angel were left alone, while Sakura stepped into Matou's bedroom, with no sign that anything was amiss, save that her shadow was easily visible, even though the room had no obvious light sources at the time. Even in total darkness, there was nothing darker than the pool around Sakura's feet.

If Sakura had noticed, she would have thought it an honest mistake or oversight on Matou's part.

And it would have never crossed her mind that Matou had always intended for Avenger to accompany her back into the real world. And that the same would eventually be true for Armor and Angel, as well.

There was much that Sakura still did not know or understand about her savior. And chief among them was that Matou had long ago ceased to be a human being that made human types of mistakes. So if it ever gave the appearance of being human, just as with its portrayal of Sakura: it was all a carefully calculated act, and it had a deeper purpose.

In this case, Sakura believed that Matou was doing its best to protect her, so some small mistakes could be allowed, for the sake of that.

But they had extremely different definitions, of what classified as a small mistake, as Sakura would soon find out.

**End of Chapter 4.**

* * *

**Continued in Chapter 5: For My Master**

The time has come for the three heirs meet their Servants, but Shirou and Rin are shocked when Sakura fails to produce hers. Ruler declares that Archer is cheating, without permission, which cannot be allowed.

* * *

**Endnotes:**

Bio for "Archer" next time.

One aspect of the plot I was never a big fan of was the church's involvement. There's nothing truly holy about the Grail now, if there ever was. And how can they effectively protect anyone, when they can't even protect themselves too well? Ironically, the one member of the church who is any good at taking action, is the very one who represents the greatest hypocrisy among them. But that Kirei actively does save some victims in no way forgives the fact that he is, at heart, a murderer. Since he killed Tokiomi as a Master, technically that wasn't wrong, in terms of the War. But in no way should an overseer be allowed to take someone else's Servant, and then actively participate as a Master. Who was overseeing him at that point? So I don't want to hear anything about Gilgamesh not being eligible as Ruler because he's not impartial. He's far more impartial than Kirei ever was, and that was allowed for some insane reason.

You might recall that Jack likes her meat raw. As in fresh out of the still-warm corpse raw. And if it needs to be said, Jack is not an Avenger, but I do think that Class would be a great fit for her.

Normally, the Arturia who was Kiritsugu's Servant, and the Arturia who passed the crown to Mordred, would be completely separate entities. Even stranger, this one is separate from each of them, and yet has the memories of both. Well, it is a dream...

I decided as I was reaching the end of this chapter that it would be neat for Rin to still be accompanied by an Archer, at least for a while. And there is a reason why it's this particular Archer.

I know, shocking: Shinji facing immediate consequences from rape. And then getting raped himself. There is a reason beyond sisterly love that Rin takes things that far. More on that next time. As for why "Sakura" doesn't react: I am assuming that rape was one of the evils that was forced on Angra Mainyu, and so it doesn't phase him at this point. Being rejected or betrayed seem to be his pet peeves, so Shinji's treatment doesn't qualify for any retribution. Instead, what he gets is what anyone should get, if they had the bright idea to rape a manifestation of Angra Mainyu: instant consequences of sticking things were they don't belong. He's lucky it didn't rot and fall off.

For having such a useful Noble Phantasm, Caster seems to have no luck. So that trend continues here. Okay, I'm kidding, I had always planned to have Team Medusa kill her off. But I can't deny that was part of the reason.

* * *

**BIOS:**

I only promised three, but ended up with more bios, in order to cover everything I wanted to.

**Heracles**  
_Class(es):_ Saber, Avenger

Though he would excel in nearly any standard Class, Heracles much prefers the straightforward attack style of Sabers. However, with his immense strength, a sword is simply one of the many outlets in which he may defeat an opponent, so he will not hesitate to grapple with a foe if disarmed. Indeed, even with that method, he is all but guaranteed to win the Holy Grail War. Yet he does view the sword as an honorable weapon, and extends that honor to other swordsmen, unless they prove unworthy of it.

_Personal Skills:_

**Battle Continuation: A**

**Bravery: A+**

**Divinity: A**

**Eye of the Mind (False): B**

**Oath of Blood: A**  
Haunted by the memories of his children that he slayed in his blind rages, Heracles has sworn to never again spill the blood of his kinsmen. He can instantly identify those who share his blood, and will refuse to attack them in any way. No amount of Command Spells or magical compulsion will sway him, and not even the kinsmen in question attacking Heracles with intent to kill would make a difference. It is only considered a Skill in that, should he witness a kinsmen under attack and in significant danger of death, Heracles would come to their defense with startling ferocity, regardless of any other circumstances. The very idea of a murdered kinsmen before him is such a curse, that he would equate "my failure to defend them" with "having slain them myself" - even if, in the end, his aid was not truly desired or necessary. He hopes that protecting his kinsmen will quiet his own phantoms, and desires to internalize this impulse so that he may never again be compelled to spill the blood of his kin.

_Noble Phantasms:_

**God Hand: B**

**Mastery of Self: A+ [replaces Nine Lives]**  
Heracles is capable of being summoned in virtually any standard Class, and the reason is simple. Under Chiron's careful tutelage, Heracles was made to master both his mind and body to an unheard of degree. His immense strength would be a factor in everything he did, so gaining complete control over himself was essential. Though the primary lesson behind this teaching was restraint, it was always Chiron's intent that Heracles would eventually learn to both impose limits on himself, and then to surpass them, if the need should ever arise. This is a style of self-management that Heracles took to heart. He requires no equipment to be a major threat, but anything in his hands, due to his own overwhelming capabilities, gives off the impression of having been instantly mastered, no matter how unfamiliar with it Heracles is. It is not that Heracles understands the tool, but rather, that he fully understands what he himself is capable in nearly all circumstances.

**Son of Thunder: A-EX**  
Nothing other than a weaponized birthright: Heracles appeals to his father Zeus for aid, which is granted instantly and generously. Heracles becomes a living lightning rod for a massive thunderbolt strike. The A rank version is capable of destroying anything in the surrounding area that lacks either: _1) an A rank Divinity, 2) sufficient elemental resistance, or 3) some acknowledgment from Zeus himself._ The EX version also reduces Heracles' lives by one, as it ignores the immunity factor of God Hand. However, as a result, Zeus can directly interfere, and instantly restock, or reduce, all of Heracles' lives in the process.

* * *

**Achilles**  
_Class(es):_ Lancer, Avenger

Though few would make the case that being the grandnephew of Heracles destined Achilles to be a hero, it cannot be ignored that they share similar origins: mixed heritage of a divine parent and a human one, training under the centaur Chiron, a flare for legendary feats, and an end that came far too soon. Achilles is certainly a Heroic Spirit in his own right, and ironically, perhaps the only one who would place him in the shadow of Heracles is himself. But even that would still make him one of the most famous heroes in Greek myth, a place he richly deserves. And for a boy who grew up hearing tales of his father's adventures among the legendary Argonauts, it is a place he long desired.

_Personal Skills:_

**Battle Continuation: A**

**Bravery: A+**

**Affections of the Goddess: B**

**Divinity: C**  
Achilles has surely been favored by the gods. As such, he meets one of the conditions for surviving Son of Thunder largely unscathed.

**Son of the Sea: Rank Varies**  
An extension of Affections of the Goddess. So long as he is remotely near, or especially when in direct contact with seawater, Achilles simply will not be allowed to die. This may manifest in any number of ways, from accelerated healing to the sea itself acting as a defensive barrier.

_Noble Phantasms:_

**Dromeus Kometes: A+ **

**Andreias Amarantos: B**

**Diatrekhon Aster Lonkhe: B+**  
Due to the Lancer class summoning, the spear gains the ability to inflict wounds that do not heal, so long as the weapon exists.

**Akhilleus Kosmos: A+**

**Brotherhood of Astolfo Member!: Rank Unknown**  
Wait. Who put this here? And it can't be removed? That could probably be a bad thing. But it could turn out to be a good thing, possibly.

* * *

**Gilgamesh**  
**A.K.A.:** King of Heroes, Ruler of Heroes  
_Class:_ Ruler

It is a role perfectly suited for the King of Heroes: to reign over all Servants, totally unchecked. This is not a War where impartiality need apply. It is about the completion of grudges, and the realization of personal freedom. And no one holds deeper grudes, nor has more freedom, than Gilgamesh. It is on the Grail's authority that he is crowned Ruler, thus he answers to no one. He cares only for safeguarding his treasures, and he counts the Grail War among them.

_Class Skills:_

**God's Resolution: A+**  
Gilgamesh's Command Spells take the form of crimson tattoos, etched over his entire body. They should fade when used. They do not. What this means, exactly, is unclear. Gilgamesh displays no concern for running out of Command Spells, so one might infer that so long as the Grail War continues, so, too, will his supply.

**God's Edict: EX [replaces Magic Resistance]**  
Gilgamesh is the Grail's chosen representative. Attacks against him are equivalent to attacking the Grail itself, and thus, cannot be allowed. There is no need for Gilgamesh to defend himself, all attacks fail to reach him. It must be assumed that the attacks are either absorbed or redirected to another target, but it is impossible to say for sure.

**True Name Discernment: A-A+**  
As Noble Phantasms are treasures within his vault, and heroic legends his language, there are precious few Heroic Spirits that Gilgamesh cannot either recognize at once, or identify in battle. He may, however, feign ignorance as it suits him.

_Personal Skills:_

**Charisma: A+**

**Divinity: B - A+**  
Through undetailed means, Gilgamesh's Divinity has been restored to its original rank, though his grudge against the gods remains. This gives him the highest ranked Divinity in the current Holy Grail War, something he takes great pleasure in.

**Golden Rule: A**

**Affections of the Holy Grail: Rank Unknown**  
Gilgamesh does not desire the Holy Grail. It already belongs to him. As such, he could simply take it, by force or right, at any time. And the Grail would happily accept him as its owner. Where others seek the Grail for personal gain or elusive dreams, Gilgamesh has no wish for it to grant. He would simply pour its curses over humanity, and rule over the survivors. How could the Grail not love him? He is the only one that desires to grant its own wish, and asks nothing in return. It is difficult to say exactly what impact this Skill has on Gilgamesh's already superior power, save that only another Ruler might be in the best position to detail it. Though it is entirely possible that this Skill simply resulted in the King of Heroes being chosen as Ruler in the first place.

_Noble Phantasms:_

**Enuma Elish: EX**

**Gate of Babylon: E-A++**

* * *

**Adult Medusa**  
_Class(es):_ Berserker, Avenger

Summoning Medusa in the Berserker Class seals her fate: she must instinctively ascend into the dreaded Gorgon. Virtually any aggressive action she takes, witnesses, or experiences speeds the fated evolution along. It is never a path she would choose while in her rational mind, but as a Berserker, that is no longer a factor. Rather than a mad warrior, insanity reverts her to a bestial predator, and reduces access to and the power of some of her Noble Phantasms. She completely disregards her usual weapons, relying instead on her claws, fangs, and brute strength to rip into opponents and feast on their blood. Any sense of strategy is gone, but near-constant evolution, strength bordering on demonic, and rapid recovery through the bloodshed of opponents make her a dangerous foe for any Servant.

_Class Skills:_  
**Monstrous Enhancement: A**  
Rather than Mad Enhancement increasing the duration or power of Monstrous Strength, they have fused into one continuously active Skill. In essence, Medusa is trapped in a never-ending cycle: aggression triggers her evolution, which increases both her strength and the need to use it, thus resulting in further aggression. No normal Master's Command Spell could dependably cease the resulting rampage - and they would need to, for their own safety. Put simply, this Servant, summoned as a Berserker, was never intended to have a Master. There is just one thing still assured to calm her in this state, but regretfully, it can no longer be found naturally in this world.

**Dominion of the Queen of Beasts: Rank Unknown [replaces Divinity]**  
Divinity has been stripped from her in this form, due to the actions of the Other. However, this was not made possible merely by the Holy Grail, but by the power of the Other. As a Berserker, Medusa is now considered a magical beast, so she is naturally subservient to the Other, the closest form to the legendary Gorgon that would allow such a thing. This is no longer a concept that Medusa can understand, yet she can still recognize either portions of herself, or those who carry her own blood, and views them with a pack mentality. This Skill is proof of Medusa's true allegience, and if she should display some power thought to be exclusive to the Other? That is only further proof that the fated journey is almost done.

**Independent Action: A**  
Driven entirely by the instinct to evolve, Medusa has no restraint or reason. She simply devours "food" as she comes across it. She cannot access the memories of battling or hating humans, but the knowledge that they contain the blood she seeks is more than enough, which in turn provides the mana she requires to move, with or without a Master. Even with a Master she accepts, this only alters her desire in that her endless hunger for greater power would then be used to protect her Master. And even said Master might eventually prove unable to suppress that desire.

_Noble Phantasms:_

**Mystic Eyes: A+**  
Ironically, though her eyes are one of her most powerful weapons, as a Berserker, Medusa no longer has the necessary rational mind to use them on her own. If her eyes become exposed, she will use them instinctively. Otherwise, she must first be directed to remove her blindfold by her Master.

**Blood Fort Andromeda: B**  
Medusa retains access to this Noble Phantasm solely because it is related to her hunger. When presented with a wealth of potential targets, she will seek to devour them all, and Blood Fort Andromeda is the most effective way to accomplish this.

**Breaker Gorgon: C-**  
Because both the self-function and powering it via mana are deeply ingrained in Medusa's body, she fulfills them without thought. However, the capability of using the blindfold offensively has been sealed, due to the Berserker class summoning.

* * *

**Child Medusa**  
_Class:_ Rider

The Divinity and mind of Medusa, preserved in a separate form and restored to a time of innocence. A young goddess whose body is both untouched by the perils of its future, and yet now cruelly saddled with them via Chains of Fate. She seeks to avoid any form of her becoming the Gorgon, and hopes for a reunion with her beloved elder sisters. Which prize will she wish for? Or is there even a wish that can grant all of her desires?

_Class Skills:_

**Riding: A+ - B**  
Ranked Down due to Chains of Fate. Highest rank is only available when "the mount is Adult Medusa".

**Magic Resistance: B - C**  
Ranked Down due to Chains of Fate.

**Goddess's Divine Core: A - B**  
Ranked Down due to Chains of Fate (and because Ruler would prefer there only be one other Servant with rank A Divinity).

_Personal Skills:_

**Alluring Nightingale: B - EX**  
Child Medusa's voice is the only one even close to resembling that of her elder sisters, so it is the only sound that Adult Medusa will instinctively respond to at all times, even in the grip of madness. So long as that is true, it is the one power that prevents Adult Medusa from completing her final evolution into the Gorgon. Consequently, Child Medusa has no Command Spells, and indeed, does not need them: both the limited power and number of Command Spells are unsuitable for restraining Adult Medusa. This Skill is Ranked Up because it replaces the need for Command Spells, and as it is Child Medusa's voice itself, has unlimited uses. It should be noted, however, that this rank is only because of the extreme compatibility between the pair, and would be reduced considerably with anyone else.

**Goddess's Divine Right: A**  
A Skill awarded by Ruler, allowing Child Medusa to cheat in the Holy Grail War, simply because she is a goddess. Its effects cannot be applied to her directly, but she can apply it to tools that would then alter her own performance. Primarily, it is used to access Adult Medusa's Noble Phantasms, most of which were sealed due the Berserker class summoning.

**Chains of Fate: A [replaces Affections Towards the Beyond]**  
An unbreakable, physical manifestation of the eventuality that Child Medusa must become Adult Medusa. It allows them to share mana both ways, so even though Child Medusa assumes the role of Master, Adult Medusa provides mana for them both through blood-drinking. However, it also serves as a restraint, limiting the distance the two can be from each other, and reducing much of Child Medusa's power. Despite appearances to the contrary, Child Medusa controls the movement of the chains, using them to either bind Adult Medusa and prevent further action, or ensnare prey.

_Noble Phantasms:_  
**Breaker Gorgon: C-**  
Via Goddess's Divine Right, Child Medusa can access Breaker Gorgon, chiefly because Adult Medusa still wears it. The offensive functions are beyond Adult Medusa now, but Child Medusa may activate them instead.


	6. For My Master

Notes: Can't believe it's been a whole month. Where does the time go?

* * *

**Oathkeepers**  
**A Fate Series Fusion by**  
**Nate Grey (xman0123-at-aol-dot-com)**  
**Chapter 5: For My Master**

* * *

Sakura's first few hours back in the real world felt amazingly like studying for a test.

Matou insisted that they review everything she had done while Sakura was away, so that the switch would be as close to flawless as possible. But then, calling it a switch was not quite accurate. Sakura got the very distinct impression that Matou was not done pretending to be Sakura Matou. And, if Sakura were totally honest, she wasn't ready to be Sakura Matou yet, either. Or rather, she had never wanted to be Sakura Matou in the first place, and certainly didn't want it now.

If there was a way for Sakura to live with Rin, while Matou kept living with the Matous, that would be much more ideal for them both. And that was not an exaggeration: Matou genuinely seemed to enjoy life as one of the Matous. If the unnaturally wide grin she displayed when speaking of them was anything to go by, at least.

Sakura was absolutely shocked and disgusted by some of the things that Matou had endured over the years, but every time she tried to apologize, Matou only brushed it off impatiently, and continued talking. It was unnerving, how such awful treatment either didn't phase Matou, or gave her great pleasure.

Also of great concern to Sakura was the way in which Matou had been conducting herself, in private, with both Kiritsugu and Rin. Though Matou claimed there was no need for Sakura to keep up the act in either case, obviously the difference would be immediately noticed when Sakura failed to behave as Matou had. There was no reason to continue the intimate relationship with Kiritsugu, at least, and he might even be relieved. But from how Matou described it, Rin was not only accustomed to her sister being overly physically affectionate, but rather enjoyed it herself. So Sakura suddenly ceasing that trend would be less suspicious and more upsetting to Rin than anything else.

Still, Sakura reminded herself over and over again: Matou was her savior. Her protector. The one person (or person-shaped entity, anyway) who had prevented any harm from reaching Sakura for years. Sakura may not have liked every aspect of the way Matou had done that, but it didn't change the fact that Matou had done it all for Sakura. And Sakura was grateful, extremely so.

So when Matou finished her report, Sakura nodded, gently slipped her arms around Matou's neck, and gave her a big hug. It took several, awkward seconds for Matou to return the hug.

"Thank you, Matou," Sakura whispered, pressing her face into Matou's shoulder. "For everything."

A hand slowly crept up to stroke Sakura's hair. "You are very welcome, Sakura Tohsaka. It was my pleasure." And that was very clear. The Matous had some very unique and fascinating means of torture. She had never been bored with them.

"What happens now?" Sakura asked.

"In the morning," Matou answered, "you will go to school, and be reunited with your sister."

"But, what about Shin... I mean, nii-san? I'll have to see him at breakfast, won't I?"

Matou smirked. "Trust me, he won't bother you."

Sakura hesitated. "And... nee-san will be expecting me to make up with her?"

"Expecting, no. Hoping, yes. I assume you don't want to continue 'fighting' with her?"

"Is that a problem?"

Matou shook her head. "There is no reason not to make up with her. She is our ally."

Sakura was very relieved to hear that. "And Shirou? You haven't really given me much idea what to expect from him."

"Because he will have changed the most, no doubt. At our last contact, he promised to be much stronger the next time we met. I believe he will keep his word. You may rely on him, if you wish."

"What about you, Matou? What will you be doing?"

"I will remain here. The Matou family still serves a purpose for me. But there is one last thing we must address, to make the ruse complete." Matou turned Sakura toward the mirror. "You see it, yes?"

Sakura nodded, frowning. That faint streak of white, which first appeared in her brown hair on the night the Matous had nearly tainted her, had grown more defined over the years. There was nothing faint about it now. Yet it was not the streak, but the entirely different hair colors, that would be the issue now.

"A simple glamour will conceal the truth," Matou said. "Unless you would rather dye it."

"No." Sakura turned to face Matou, a firm expression on her face. "There's another way. A _permanent_ way."

"Absolutely not," Matou responded at once. "The entire point was to keep you pure-"

"I will be, if it's you, instead of them."

The ridiculousness of that statement was such that Matou nearly replied without thought. But she caught herself, sighed, and shook her head. "Are you certain?"

"Yes. I trust you."

"Clearly." Matou closed her eyes, thinking for a moment. "Fine. A small transfer should be safe enough. But if you experience any negative symptoms, no matter how small, you must alert me at once."

"Okay," Sakura agreed.

"You would really go this far, just to change your hair?"

Sakura frowned. "You should know this isn't just about that. You said we were partners. Then we should share the burden."

"This is not a burden that a typical human can carry," Matou warned.

Sakura smirked. "I'm not typical. I'm a Tohsaka."

* * *

Shirou left Sisigou's house that morning early enough where a direct path, at a bit of a run, would have gotten him to school a few minutes before his first class began.

However, he ran into an old man listening to a radio. Which was by no means fascinating. Although, the news story about increased missing persons cases and gruesome murders in the area was. Shirou had never really thought of it as a place that was more dangerous than any other, but suddenly, he didn't like the idea of how frequently Sakura walked the streets alone. He made a mental note to ask her why she no longer had one of the Matou henchmen drive her around.

But as Shirou turned to leave, he saw her: the little girl with the stricken look on her face as she, too, absorbed the news that their streets weren't all that safe. And when she caught Shirou staring at her, she gasped loudly, turned, and fled, possibly mistaking him for a related threat.

If asked, Shirou could not explain why he felt he need to follow her. It wasn't to correct her mistake, and it wasn't even because he was worried about her. It was something deeper, more instinctive: he _had_ to follow her. So he did. And had he been paying closer attention, he might have noticed the old man quickly phoning the police, having come to the same mistaken conclusion that he had just witnessed something criminal.

The girl ran into a dead-end alley and hunched down, keeping her eyes on the ground.

Shirou had just started to reach for her shoulder when something heavy crashed into him from above, driving him hard enough into the ground to crack the pavement beneath him. And from the sharp pains Shirou began to feel soon after, other things had been cracked, as well.

"Stop!" the girl cried, and Shirou immediately felt the weight leave his back, but the damage had already been done. Her soft, sad eyes peered down at him with genuine regret. "I wish you hadn't followed me. There's only so much I can do for you now." She lightly placed her hand on his cheek. "Sleep," she whispered.

Shirou stared at her, in far too much pain to do anything but feel it. How he wished he could escape into sleep, but that seemed impossible at the moment.

The girl frowned. "Sleep," she repeated.

Shirou opened his mouth to explain that he couldn't sleep, but all that came out was a weak groan.

"Sleep!" the girl insisted, and this time Shirou felt as if someone had draped a blanket over his entire body. He was asleep in seconds.

She slowly stood up, staring down at him in concern. "For a human to resist my voice even that much, he might be a potential Master. It would be best to get rid of him. But that isn't who we are anymore." But then, she hesitated. "Still, he is already asleep, and he does have a little mana to spare. More than an average human would. Parting with some won't hurt him too much. And he's going to be our guest for a bit longer, regardless. We can't afford to waste such opportunities. You may sample him, Berserker, but don't kill him. I could see in his eyes that his intent was pure. Such a thing should be rewarded."

And so it was: Shirou woke up two hours later just outside his school, with no memory of how he got there. Nor could he explain why he felt so tired, the slight ache in his back, or the two strange puncture marks high on his throat. He vaguely recalled an old man with a radio, but nothing after that.

* * *

Rin was in high spirits when she arrived at school. So much so that she actively engaged Mitsuzuri in casual conversation for almost ten minutes, something she normally saved for private moments. Rin didn't want to give the public impression that she was too approachable, otherwise there would be no end to the suitors who thought they could just walk up and proposition her. Frankly, there were times when Rin worried that she had made herself too welcoming to some girls, as most were not as intimidated by her as boys were.

But such concerns faded, the moment Rin spotted Sakura hurrying toward the school. Rin did not even bother to end her talk with Mitsuzuri, nor explain the abrupt dismissal. But, as one of several who witnessed what happened next, Mitsuzuri never felt the need to demand an apology.

The two estranged sisters approached each other, but stopped a respectable distance away.

"Sakura," Rin began hesitantly. "I'm so sorry about what I said to you. It wasn't my-"

"Please, forget it, nee-san," Sakura said. "I love that you worry about me. Just try to do it a little less from now on."

"I can try. But you know I could never promise that."

"Which is why I'll never waste my breath asking you to. Anyway, I need to apologize to you, too."

Rin blinked in surprise. "For what?"

Sakura beamed. "Your reputation as the unapproachable Tohsaka is about to be shattered."

And before Rin could react, Sakura flung herself at her sister, and gave her a huge hug. Rin only minded for an instant, but then she was embracing Sakura tightly, just happy they weren't fighting anymore. The other students would talk, but Rin didn't care. None of them had an evil mage family threatening to take away their siblings. Their uninformed opinions simply didn't matter to her. Anyway, anyone who truly knew her would know how important family was to her. And Rin didn't see any way she would be able to deny her connection to Sakura now. Not that she ever had before, she simply hadn't told the whole truth. Most of her friends were under the impression that she and Sakura were childhood friends who had grown apart, and were now distantly formal with each other.

Sakura had never commented on that, and Rin had worried for years that the lie, necessary as it had been, deeply wounded Sakura. But on this day, Sakura wore the very ribbon in her hair that Rin had given her so long ago, and it was enough to let Rin know that at least some sins had been forgiven. But with Sakura, that was no real surprise.

"I missed you," Rin admitted boldly, unable to stop her tears from falling.

Sakura laughed softly and gently brushed Rin's tears away. "You must mean that, if you're doing this much damage to your reputation. But don't think I don't appreciate it."

"As well you should. I wouldn't cry for just anyone," Rin said loftily.

"Maybe for onii-chan?" Sakura suggested slyly.

Rin blushed slightly. "That idiot? Of course not! I bet you anything he'll be late, helping some old woman cross the street!"

"You wouldn't really give him a hard time, if that were the reason?"

"Of course not, but it won't be! That was just an example!"

Rin's words proved more prophetic than she knew. Not only was Shirou not on time that day, he missed the first three classes, passed out during the fourth, and was sent home early to get some rest. In fact, Rin was the student tasked with deliviring the assignments he missed out on.

* * *

Sakura made it a point to stop by the school infirmary during lunch, when she heard what happened to Shirou. Of course, all she heard was that he'd been acting strangely. And that he had passed out in the middle of a lecture.

Also that his hair was now completely white, and he had been dubbed with the rather unflattering nickname, "Old Man Emiya", by some of Shinji's more catty followers.

Sakura thought briefly of the traumatic experience that had turned a lock of her own hair white, and wondered if the same had happened to Shirou. She very much doubted it, however. In fact, she doubted his hair color was a new development at all. Neither she nor Rin had seen Shirou for months before that day. It was possible his hair had changed in that time. Clearly, he had gotten used to it being that way, as he hadn't done anything to conceal it, and was comfortable enough to go to school looking that way.

Sure enough, Shirou was still in the infirmary, quietly eating his lunch.

Without a word, Sakura sat down next to him, and began to eat her own lunch.

He gave her an odd look, and she gave him a challenging stare that he quickly looked away from.

"I wish you had told us," she said after a moment. "We would have been happy to walk in with you."

"I was late. Anyway, I didn't want you two to get that kind of attention on the first day back. I don't mind if it's just me. But I didn't like the idea of you two taking the heat for it."

"We're your family, too," Sakura said softly. "Let us help you."

Shirou frowned. "I appreciate you saying that, but let's be very clear." He pointed at his hair. "This is a side effect of my body adjusting to my crest transplant. It wasn't entirely unexpected. But it isn't a problem, and I'm not ashamed of it."

"I never said you should be. But people are not so understanding-"

"I have more important things to worry about than what a few people think of my hair color. And I'll have to put up with far worse than some whispered insults soon enough." He leaned back and sighed. "We're going to war, Sakura. I don't have time to worry about silly school stuff."

"So you don't care what anyone else thinks."

"You just made it very clear that the people who matter still accept me. That's all I need or want."

"Nee-san is angry that you didn't tell her."

Shirou winced. "Yeah, well... I'll deal with that when I see her."

"If this had happened to me instead, you would want to know right away, wouldn't you?"

"That's different."

"Why?"

Shirou frowned. "You know why. You're the little sister. You're meant to be protected. Anyway, your life's been hard enough without adding my troubles to it."

"And yours hasn't?" Sakura demanded.

He blushed. "I don't dump my issues on other people, especially not you and Rin."

"But you at least used to talk to us about them. We would rather you worry us, than protect us." Sakura placed her hand on his. "Don't push us away, onii-chan. We love you. And with Emiya-sensei getting worse-"

"Don't." Shirou lowered his head. "I can't think about that right now."

"All the more reason to lean on us, so you don't have to." Sakura squeezed his hand with surprising strength. "We are _much_ stronger than we look."

* * *

Kiritsugu did not open his eyes or sit up in bed when he felt the unfamiliar presence in the house. Despite the fact that it was the middle of the day, and all three of his students, and Taiga, would have been at school.

The reason was simple: he was dying, and the how of it really didn't matter to him anymore. If an intruder was going to kill him, that would still be preferable to dying by the curse, or the worms.

More importantly, the intruder, and it was definitely an intruder, had not tripped the sensors of the barrier around the house. So they either had excellent evasion abilities, or no malicious intent. As they had avoided announcing themselves, Kiritsugu was wagering on the former.

The intruder paused outside of his bedroom door.

Kiritsugu decided he was in no mood for suspense. "It's not locked, and there are no traps." That was all true: Kiritsugu would have relied on weapons, not traps. And there were plenty hidden within his reach, if it came to that.

The door swung open.

Kiritsugu's next words, whatever they had been, died in his throat.

The visitor stepped inside. "You are surprised," she noted.

"That isn't even close to adequately describing what I am right now."

"Fair enough."

Kiritsugu decided to ask before he lost his nerve. "Are you... the same one?"

She peered at him intently. "Would your behavior differ so much if I wasn't?"

"No. But there are things she might-"

"I have detailed knowledge of your final orders, if that is what you mean."

Kiritsugu blinked. "That isn't the same-"

"I'm aware. And I would still have you explain yourself. That is the purpose of my being here."

He looked startled. "You aren't here to kill me?"

She shook her head. "What would be the point? You are clearly not long for this world. I would take no satisfaction from ending your life. As I said, I am here for information." Her gaze hardened. "Why did you order the Holy Grail to be destroyed? Why did you betray it, and your Servant?"

Kiritsugu sighed. "I owe you... her... one of you, that much, at least. There was no time to explain then. Even now, you may not believe what I tell you. But I swear that it is the truth that the Grail itself shared with me."

He told her everything: the tale of Angra Mainyu, how the Grail had been corrupted, how it could now only grant wishes through curses. And at some point, it occurred to him that she must have known or suspected most of this already, because her standing there, in that form at all, was proof of how the Grail had been altered.

When he was done, she closed her eyes briefly. "I see. I do not doubt that you speak the truth, and I finally understand your reasoning. I do not agree, but I understand. That is all I needed. I do not think it will come, but I wish you a swift death, Kiritsugu Emiya." With that, she turned to leave.

"What would you have done in my place?" he couldn't help asking.

"Isn't it obvious? I would have had my wish granted, no matter the cost to myself, or anyone else. Even if the cost was my life."

Kiritsugu smiled bitterly. "Oh, no. It never would have been that. If you weren't alive to see your wish granted in the worst possible way, there wouldn't be nearly enough satisfaction for the Grail."

* * *

Passing out at school when people were already calling him an old man was annoying enough for Shirou. Being sent home for it, even more so. But to make matters worse, of all the people who they could have sent to walk him home, Mitsuzuri had not only been selected, she'd volunteered. Which meant the entire way, Shirou had to listen to a passionate speech about how he needed to take much better care of himself. He realized it was because she was a true friend who cared about him, but frankly, his current weakened condition wasn't his fault. At least, he didn't think it was. He'd been fine when he left Sisigou's house that morning, anyway. Although perhaps he should have had more to eat than burnt toast.

Anyone else might have just made sure Shirou got inside okay, but Mitsuzuri insisted on coming in, since she figured neither Shirou nor Kiritsugu was in any shape to look after the other. This turned out to be a good thing, because it meant Shirou had a witness to something he wasn't sure he actually saw, at first.

Just for an instant, there was a blonde woman standing outside of the front door. She was wearing a dark dress, either black or violet, and staring out into the distance. But, as if she sensed Shirou watching her, she vanished from view, far too quickly to have simply moved.

Shirou's first instinct was to ask Mitsuzuri if she had seen the woman, but he wasn't sure how to pose the question without being accused of imagining things. He really wished he was seeking her opinion on something other than a woman disappearing like a ghost.

Luckily, Mitsuzuri's shout of, "Whoa, how'd she _do_ that?!" was all the reassurance he needed.

"No idea," Shirou replied. "Never seen her before, either."

Mitsuzuri suddenly blushed. "Um, maybe we should go for a walk around the block a few times. If your dad is entertaining strange women while you're supposed to be at school, we should give him a chance to get the place cleaned up."

Shirou rolled his eyes. "He's confined to his bed."

"Yeah, well, that's kind of my point!"

"He can't get up to answer the door, and he's not the type of person to tell people where he hides spare keys. He's not going to have strange women in and out of the house at any hour."

"Okay, then how do you explain some woman you don't know being here at this time?" Mitsuzuri demanded.

"He had a whole life before he found me. I assume he met women at some point. He did have a wife."

"And you don't think it's at all possible that he misses the company of a woman?"

"It's possible," Shirou finally said. "Just not very likely."

Mitsuzuri frowned. "_You_ can do what you want, but _I'm_ going to walk around the block twice first. Just in case."

Shaking his head, Shirou watched her walk away at an extremely slow pace. Then he unlocked the front door and went into the house.

Kiritsugu was in bed, right where Shirou expected him to be, and there was nothing that indicated a recently cleaned up sexcapade. Not that Shirou would have known what to look for if there had been one. The only female Kiritsugu had ever brought around Shirou was Fuji-nee, and she was there mainly to entertain Shirou, not Kiritsugu.

"You're home early," Kiritsugu noted. "Anything I should know about happen at school?"

"Yeah, but before that, who was the woman I saw outside?" Shirou asked bluntly.

Kiritsugu said nothing for a very long moment. Finally, he shook his head. "Someone I used to know."

Shirou frowned. "Arturia?"

"Possibly," Kiritsugu said slowly. "How do you know that name?"

"Not important. What did she want?"

"Information that I owed her. Why do you seem worried?"

"I'm not sure you should trust her."

"That doesn't really matter at this point," Kiritsugu said. "Her business with me is done. If she were going to do anything, she would have done it already."

"Maybe she already did," muttered Shirou.

"I don't understand you."

"Forget it."

Kiritsugu nodded. "So? School?"

"I passed out. No idea why."

Kiritsugu looked faintly alarmed. "Was Sisigou working you too hard?"

Shirou shook his head. "The training was reduced, just like you wanted, in preparation for the summoning. It wasn't that. Maybe it was the burnt toast."

"I doubt it, but it's possible. Enough talking, you need to rest up for tonight. We want to decrease the chances of anything else going wrong. Make sure you-"

"The protein shake, I know," Shirou said wearily. "Stuff tastes like roadkill."

"Impossible," Kiritsugu said at once. "For you to know that for sure. I've never served you roadkill."

Shirou rolled his eyes. Then he hesitated. "You, uh... look a little pale yourself."

"That'll be the worms," Kiritsugu said, allowing the fatigue he felt to leak into his voice. "That visit earlier excited them." Noticing Shirou's alarm, he shook his head. "No, it wasn't anything she did on purpose. But around mana that dense, they can't sit still. Nothing we can do about that. Now, the protein shake and then bed."

Shirou made a face, but still went to the kitchen and took out a pitcher that he had come to loathe with a passion. Inside was the aforementioned protein shake, which Shirou had begun drinking shortly after his very first crest transplant. It was a foul-tasting, foul-smelling, and foul-looking concoction, and the only true benefit was that immediately after consuming it, Shirou could not deny that his body always felt full of energy. Even so, he still hated it.

Unknown to Kiritsugu, in a show of solidarity, Sakura would occasionally offer to drink the protein shake with Shirou. Oddly enough, she claimed the taste didn't bother her too much, and never had as strong a reaction to it as Shirou did. Shirou briefly thought that maybe it tasting so bad as all in his head. But Rin reassured him that his first impression was correct: the only time he'd asked her to try the protein shake, she accused him of obviously trying to poison her.

Of course, if Shirou had thought to tell Rin that the protein shake was supposed to help him adjust to his crest transplant, she would have figured out very quickly why it tasted so foul, why it worked so well on him, and why it had little to no effect on Sakura. The answer to all three was that Matou crest worms were no different from regular bugs, in that they were packed with protein, whether they were alive and squirming through a body, or dead and blended into a protein shake.

What Rin did know, however, was that the crest she'd seen on Shirou's back at various points contained no visible traces of Matou magecraft. Nor was there any visible crest on Sakura that would imply her status as a Matou. And Rin had studied her father's notes, specifically his encounters with Kariya Matou, enough to know that insects were involved. And since she never saw Sakura or Shirou carrying any, she rightly assumed that the insects were carried within them. Consequently, Rin encouraged Sakura to eat whenever she was in the Tohsaka home, and was naturally suspicious of anything Sakura or Shirou ate that had been prepared by anyone other than her. Rin could not protest, being well aware that this was part of the contract she'd agreed to. She was a mage, and this was what mages did, if it was called for. That was how her family had lost Sakura in the first place. No one had taken her away. The Matous asked, and her father handed Sakura over.

Mages weren't human. They didn't have that luxury. Nor were the children they raised up considered human anymore. But Rin had lost her parents before she was fully grown. And Kiritsugu had become her teacher at a time when Rin was still young enough where she hadn't become fully devoted to the Tohsaka way just yet. The result was something that Tokiomi Tohsaka never would have envisioned, but still would have applauded. At heart, Rin was a Tohsaka, and always would be. But within that heart burned a total lack of mercy, when it came to obtaining the things that mattered most to her. Rin had embraced the ideals of the old Kiritsugu, who was feared among mages. It was nothing that Kiritsugu had wanted to teach her, and yet, he could not deny Rin access to areas where her talent was truly flourishing. She wouldn't have allowed that. And the alternative was her gaining those skills through less unsupervised means. Rin would not be denied.

There was, however, another reason Kiritsugu gave in, a purely selfish one. Rin would not hesitate to exterminate the Einzberns, if it meant adding a powerful mage to her family. And she would do anything to protect Sakura and Shirou, because they were her family, too. She was the best chance for Illya to be free and safe. In some ways, she was more Kiritsugu's successor than Shirou could ever be. But she would never be a hero of justice. Her brand of justice would be far too dark and direct to ever be fit for the masses.

* * *

Just before midnight, Rin and Sakura arrived at the Emiya residence. They didn't bother going inside the house itself. Instead, they walked around to the backyard, where Kiritsugu and Shirou were waiting. If there was only one time when Kiritsugu would ignore doctor's orders and leave his bed, it was for this night. With no direction from Kiritsugu, Rin proceeded to draw three summoning circles. They were flawless. Sakura merely watched, while Shirou sipped a protein shake, and tried not to gag.

Shirou and Rin both began their summonings precisely at one. This was not necessarily ideal for either, but Kiritsugu had determined that the synergy would improve both their rates of success, and the overall power of their Servants. What he had not told them was that it should also improve the odds that the Servants hailed from the same side of the same mythological era, so the chances of them already being allied would be increased.

Things went awry immediately: Rin appeared to have failed to summon anything at all. Shirou, on the other hand, successfully summoned Lancer, who immediately shook his hand, said, "Nice one, little bro. But, uh, be right back!" and then promptly ran off at top speed.

Several minutes later, Lancer returned, sulking, followed by a giant man who immediately knelt before Rin.

"W-Who are you?" Rin asked warily.

"I am your Servant, my Master," the giant replied. "You may call me Saber, if you like."

"YES!" Rin shrieked, doing a silly little war dance on the spot. "I got SABER!"

Saber blinked, watching his Master with amusement. "You are pleased, I take it?"

"Of course I'm pleased, I got SABER!" Rin yelled happily, hugging one of his massive legs. "In your _face_, Shirou!"

Shirou scowled at her. "Just because you got Saber, doesn't mean-"

Lancer placed a hand on Shirou's shoulder. "So, good for you, little missy," he said.

Rin glared at him. "Hey, I don't like your tone, Lancer."

"Oh? Going to have Saber beat me up?" Lancer invited with a knowing grin.

"I just might!" Rin threatened. "So watch it!"

Lancer chuckled. "No, I don't think I will, little missy. In fact, I think I'm going to have a great deal of fun teasing you as much as I want."

Rin turned red. "Get him, Saber!"

Saber shook his head. "I will not."

Rin blinked in surprise. "Huh?! Why not?"

Lancer laughed. "Yeah, maybe you'd better educate her on your Skill set, oji-san. Since she apparently can't read."

Once Rin had taken the time to check her Servant's read-out, she was floored, and pissed. "What! You mean you can't attack Lancer?!"

"It is more accurate to say I will not," Saber corrected. "Though, believe me, I have been tempted."

"But this is awful! That means we can only win the Holy Grail War if someone else beats him!"

"Do not forget the terms of our contract, Rin," Kiritsugu reminded her. "Shirou is not after the Holy Grail, nor will he be participating in the War. Lancer was never going to be a threat to you in that respect."

"Yeah, but I still wanted to be the one who defeated Shirou's Servant!" Rin complained.

Lancer grinned. "Did I mention how much I will enjoy reminding you that you won't, little missy?"

"Shut up!" Rin snapped, only succeeding in making him laugh.

Sakura's summoning was scheduled to proceed at two. As with Rin, she appeared to have failed to summon anything. Unlike with Rin, Sakura's Servant did not eventually arrive. And after an hour, it became clear that something had gone wrong. No one was willing to say it, but Sakura finally did.

"I failed. I'm not a Master."

"That's not true!" Rin protested. She grabbed Sakura's hand and showed it to them, where there were indeed Command Spells.

"Rin," Kiritsugu said firmly. "That's enough." He turned to Sakura, and softened his tone. "Sakura, I can't say I know what happened here. But, you are still my student, and you are always welcome here. Especially now. I, for one, don't trust that priest. This can be your sanctuary, if you should feel threatened at any time."

Sakura bowed to him. "Thank you, Emiya-sensei. I may take you up on that offer."

"Sakura," Rin pleaded, clearly not ready to give up on the summoning attempt.

Sakura shook her head. "It's okay, nee-san. It's late, and we have school tomorrow. I should go-"

"You can both stay here," Shirou said at once, getting a nod of support from Kiritsugu. "We'll leave for school in the morning, together."

Sakura smiled at him. "I'd like that."

Rin sighed. "I'll call Archer and let her know we're staying." Sakura took her hand, and they went inside.

Once the girls were gone, Shirou turned to Kiritsugu. "Is there any chance Rin made a mistake with the summoning circles?"

"She didn't," Kiritsugu confirmed.

"Then how do you explain this? Of all of us, Sakura should have had the _easiest_ time summoning a Servant!"

"I'm aware, Shirou. I have no answer for you right now."

Shirou frowned. "This doesn't make any sense."

Kiritsugu said nothing to that. He already had a very good idea of why Sakura had been unable to summon a Servant in their presence. But he was equally certain that it wasn't his place to inform Shirou or Rin of that, and that there was an excellent reason why Sakura had not done the same.

* * *

_Earlier_

Matou had brought Sakura back just in time, it seemed. Shortly after their review, Zouken had summoned Sakura to the basement, as Matou had known he would. Thankfully, not for training, but for something that Sakura, rather than Matou, was especially suited for, and wouldn't prove too uncomfortable.

And now that it was done, Sakura understood, for the very first time, what her true value to the Matou family was. And she now knew it to be far greater than what her grandfather had thought it was. The Heroic Spirit standing before her in the dusty, mold-encrusted room was all the proof she would ever need of her extreme potential as a magus.

Zouken had given her explicit instructions on what she was to do, and how the Spirit would most likely react to her.

Everything he had told her was wrong. Not because he had purposely lied to her, oddly enough. He simply had been completely in the dark about the nature of this particular Servant, in this particular Class.

The Servant was supposed to ask if the person before them was their Master.

Instead, the moment the armored Servant locked eyes with Sakura, it stepped forward, gently grasped her shoulders, and announced without hesitation or doubt, "You are my Master."

Sakura opened her mouth to respond, paused when she noticed Shinji glaring at her from the doorway, and swallowed hard. "I... yes, I am your Master. But since I will not be participating in the Holy Grail War, I will transfer control of you to-"

"No," the Servant interrupted. "I will serve only you."

Sakura frowned. She knew many Servants could prove strong-willed, especially when first summoned. Even this much resistance was not really abnormal. But the Servant she'd been aiming for would have been notably more obedient. This was clearly not that Servant, but attitude aside, it was simply impossible to call this summoning a failure.

Even though the Class was way off, she had still managed to summon one of the strongest heroes that she knew of.

But as an Assassin, according to her read-out.

Sakura tried again to explain the situation. "No, I'm telling you that I won't be-"

"You will. You are my Master, and-"

"What are you waiting for, idiot?!" Shinji snapped as he stomped into the room. "Stop letting it tell you how things are going to be! Give the order and hand over my new slave!"

The Servant glanced at Shinji with obvious loathing before turning her gaze back to Sakura. "Master... were you actually intending to order me to obey this person?"

"Um, yes," Sakura murmured.

"I refuse," the Servant replied at once. "You are my one and only Master. I obey only you, and only orders that you truly wish for me to follow. If you wish for me to obey him, you must use a Command Spell to do so."

This was not a shock to Sakura, who had figured that would be necessary. But only because it was so unusual. Not because she'd expected the Servant to take an instant dislike to Shinji. Only some people did that. Well, rather a lot of them, frankly.

Sakura opened her mouth to begin the official transfer, but made the mistake of meeting the Servant's gaze. Those honest, unclouded, piercing golden eyes would not allow her to say a word. It was not any sort of magic, merely an overwhelming strength of will the likes of which Sakura had never encountered before. And if there was one thing that the Matous had expected from and desired of Sakura from day one, it was to submit to superior willpower.

By then, Shinji lost what little patience he'd had. He stomped toward Sakura, his right hand already raised and balled into a fist. His anger was such that he had actually forgotten what a bad idea this was.

Sakura caught a glimpse of motion out of the corner of her left eye, automatically winced, and braced herself for the hit.

The Servant did not move. Or at least, did not appear to.

But in the next moment, events unfolded in a way that only one of them expected.

Shinji's right hand fell. On the floor, as it had been sliced off at the wrist. He saw the fallen hand before any sort of pain registered, and the additional sight of his now bloody right stump was what finally caused him to start shrieking.

Sakura slowly opened her eyes, and stared into the steady gaze of her Servant. If she was aware of what had happened to Shinji, she gave no sign of it.

"You are my Master," the Servant repeated firmly, staring down at her.

"Why would you want me?" Sakura whispered. "I'm just-"

"You are just," the Servant agreed. "That is all I need to know, my Master." The Servant placed a gauntlet-covered arm around Sakura's shoulders and drew her closer. "Please do not seek to disrupt our bond again, my Master. I have no desire to be parted from you."

Sakura again found that she could not refuse those golden eyes. Not out of fear, or any emotion that she could readily identify. Nor was it any method of control that she had experienced since becoming part of the Matou family. She only understood on an instinctive level that her Servant intended to stay with her, to serve her, to protect her. And only her.

Afterward, Sakura left for school, and Shinji skipped school to go straight to a hospital.

Neither was aware of it, but Zouken had been testing them both that day, and Shinji had certainly not passed. Sakura, however... she hadn't failed. But to say she had met her grandfather's expectations also would have been inaccurate. And Zouken, once again, found himself in the curious position of having to decide whether he preferred that Sakura behave exactly as he wanted with predictable results, or beyond his calculations with far more superior results that he could not adequately control.

* * *

Humming softly to herself, Sakura carefully checked her appearance in the mirror. As she did so, her shadow thickened and stretched behind her, and an armored shape slowly rose from it like a ghost. If Sakura was startled when she noticed that she was no longer alone, then she showed it by smiling and whispering, "Good morning, Armor."

The knight nodded. "Greetings, Master. I have detected nothing to be concerned about, so far as the Servants nearby go. But there is one beyond my effective range, so I can say nothing for certain about them."

"Not even their Class?"

"Process of elimination would suggest they are an extra Servant, so a nonstandard Class is most likely."

"Thanks, I'll keep it in mind. Is there anything you need from me?"

The knight hesitated. "Master, the ceremony I spoke of before?"

"Right," Sakura said. "It sounded really interesting. I'll have to skip club practice this afternoon, but that's no problem."

"It will be a formal acknowledgement of your status as my Master. It is essential, for you to assume command of the knights who have pledged their loyalty to me."

Sakura shook her head. "Really, I don't understand why you'd want that. But since it's important to you, of course I'll do it."

The knight stepped closer to Sakura. "Thank you, Master. For this, and for concealing my presence. It will only increase my ability to serve you effectively."

At that moment, the doorknob rattled, and then the door swung open as a bleary-eyed Rin was revealed, looking especially grumpy.

Sakura stared at her sister with raised eyebrows. "Good morning, nee-san."

Rin grunted something in Sakura's general direction, but otherwise ignored her and shuffled into the bathroom.

Though Sakura was fairly certain that in Rin's current state, not even a plane crashing into the bathroom would been noticed, she still glanced down. Her shadow was perfectly normal-looking again, and there was definitely no longer an armored person sticking out of it.

Rin's next grunt was a bit more aggressive-sounding, so Sakura took the hint and quickly left the bathroom.

* * *

"I'm telling you, you don't have to go to school with me," Shirou said for the third time.

"And I'm telling you, I'm going," Lancer said flatly. "Don't worry, no one will see me."

"Why are YOU so worried?"

"Do you have a girlfriend? A lover? Some pretty little thing you're spending time with?"

Shirou blushed. "What? Of course not!"

Lancer reached forward and jabbed Shirou hard in the neck, directly on the two bite marks that still hadn't faded completely. "Damn right, you don't. Because they would have noticed these, and demanded to know who you were cheating with. But those aren't love bites, and they didn't come from a girl. You've been marked by a monster, and not just any monster. So I go where you go."

Shirou paled. "What sort of monster?"

"The kind I don't want you facing alone," Lancer said simply. "Don't worry, little brother. I've got your back."

"Okay," Shirou said, a little relieved. "Thanks, Lancer."

"It's nothing." Lancer's grin faded as Shirou looked away. Saber had recognized the bite marks first, and made a point to mention them to Lancer. But there had been no need. There was no Heroic Spirit of Greek origin that would mistake those bites for anything else. Shirou had been unlucky to be marked, but also very lucky to walk away at all. And though he didn't show it, Lancer was more worried than Shirou knew. Lancer had sworn to never use his weapon of choice, his spear, against a female. And depending on the Class that Medusa had been summoned in, he might be honor-bound not to use the spear against her, even if she was still a monster. That didn't mean he couldn't find another way to kill her, only that it would be trickier. Which Saber must have known, so his warning, while annoying, was appreciated.

That was the only help Saber would provide, though. Still being sore about Kotomine's death being stolen, Lancer had insisted that Medusa was his kill, as she had threatened his Master. Saber agreed not to interfere, unless Rin were targeted, or she ordered him to act.

So Lancer had every intention of adding Medusa's next defeat to his impressive list of heroic feats.

But, especially concerning a Holy Grail War, things so rarely go as planned.

* * *

Although he had not been invited, Ruler walked into the Tohsaka mansion as if he owned the place.

A small table in the dining room had been prepared to host tea for two. Ruler ignored it. He did not care for tea, and even if he had, it wasn't the purpose of his visit.

He found Archer in the kitchen with her back to him, putting the final touches on the aforementioned tea.

"Welcome, Ruler," she said. "Or perhaps I should say, welcome back. You have been here before."

"I am not here for small talk, pretender," Ruler warned her. "You lay claim to the name and position of Archer, but my eyes are not deceived. You are no Archer, and your presence may prevent a True Archer from being summoned. This is unacceptable. Take your own life at once, or shall I assist you?"

Archer sighed. "Rest assured, I have no intention of causing problems. I swear upon my honor, now that Rin Tohsaka has successfully summoned Saber, I have no plans to stay. The details of my death have already been revealed to me, and that occasion will come shortly after we are done."

Ruler glared at her. "You assume I will permit you to survive this encounter."

"With respect, this is not about what you might permit. The future has been revealed to me."

"Then you must surely know how you plan to survive the next few moments."

Archer nodded. "With extreme difficulty. Yet, I will survive them. There is no doubt in my mind."

"Let us test the firmness of your faith," Ruler said softly, extending his hand as a battle axe dropped neatly into it from a glowing portal.

"Indeed," Archer said in a resigned sort of way. She already knew the tea would get cold.

* * *

From a very early age, Mordred had come to understand that her body, while certainly unusual, offered a variety of useful features. They could not really be called human features, but even that was somewhat expected of a Pendragon. In particular, Mordred had found that her nose was not just sensitive, but discerning: it had never failed to identify someone who proved unworthy of her trust. On the other hand, Mordred's head or heart were sometimes slow to agree with what her nose had been telling her from day one. So in the rare moments where all three agreed, Mordred preferred to take immediate action.

And as Mordred stared out at the snow-covered forest surrounding the Einzbern castle, her senses were all screaming for her to act at once. While she did not plan to ignore them, there was now her Master's safety to consider.

"Jack," Mordred murmured, and her lips had barely stopped moving when the Assassin appeared at her feet.

"You called me, onii-sama?" Jack asked.

"There's something I need to look into. I expect you and Morgan to guard Illya with your lives."

Jack nodded firmly. "Of course, onii-sama! Master is safe with us!"

Mordred smiled faintly and ruffled Jack's hair. "Do a good job and I might bring you back something nice." She felt the tiniest bit guilty in saying that, as she had no firm plans to obtain a fresh heart for Jack, but sometimes, these things did manage to work out.

Once Jack had vanished back into the castle, Mordred sighed and stretched out her hand. Clarent fell into it at once, the weight both reassuring and prickly at the same time. "I cast this spell in the name of my late mother, Morgan le Fay," Mordred whispered. "Until this sword leaves my hand, let my Noble Phantasm be inverted."

Clarent pulsed with power, and in that instant, Pride Upon My Back became Back to My Pride. With Mordred's family behind her, in need of her protection, there was nothing that could prevent her from meeting a threat to them head-on. And on this day, that threat was a bit too familiar for her liking.

Though Mordred did not know how it would happen, she was prepared for anything. So when the shadows suddenly burst from the snow, rose up and joined to form a black tidal wave, she did not hesitate. Eyes narrowed, Mordred threw herself headfirst into the wave. The darkness pulled her down, not in an attempt to consume, but to guide. Mordred allowed herself to be drawn in deeper and deeper, until she once again sensed that unmistakable presence. Then, with a feral grin, she lashed out with Clarent, and blade met blade.

The opposing sword was one that Mordred would know anywhere, but that was not all that held her attention.

Green eyes stared into golden eyes, and the world seemed to stop around them.

"You are not my father," Mordred whispered. "And yet..."

"And yet," echoed the soft, dangerous voice of the armored opponent. "I could not agree more, Your Highness."

Mordred flinched. Hearing that title, from those lips, in that face... it was something she had never been able to adjust to. Especially not from her own father. For all her dreams of becoming king and surpassing her father, the very idea that her revered lord father might one day bow to her, or submit to her, filled her with something like deepest disgust. There was only one that Mordred would bow to, and that one should never bow to anyone.

"You object to that title? Fascinating."

Mordred's eyes narrowed, and Clarent began to glow crimson as it pushed against the dark blade. "I object to hearing it from you. But never mind that now. Now that I know who and what you are, I'm here to deliver a message."

Despite the increasing pressure from Clarent, the opponent made no move to do the same with her sword, and yet, had no problem withstanding Mordred's force. "You have my attention."

"Don't lose to anyone else. I will be the one to defeat you. Anything else I need to know about you, I'll learn when our swords clash."

A smile flickered across the golden-eyed woman's lips. "Again, I agree. But I warn and remind you now: I am not your father. Honor and glory: these are things I had to put aside in my quest. I accept your challenge, but my story is different." With a slight twist of her wrist, the dark sword pulsed, and Mordred was nearly blown backwards by the crushing waves of pressure radiating from it. "I am a king no more. But I know exactly how to take one's head, Your Majesty."

"Truly Excalibur," Mordred muttered.

"Excalibur Morgan, actually," the golden-eyed woman corrected. "And as for myself, my Master has requested that I use a specific name: Arturia Black."

Mordred grinned. "You have no fear of revealing your True Name to an enemy. I like that."

Arturia Black smirked. "I can't see how it would matter. You already knew my identity. As for anyone else? At best, knowing the name of their killer might give them some small sense of relief. But to suggest that simply knowing my name would somehow equate to my opponent's victory? Laughable. No Pendragon has ever been so weak. I assume you agree?"

Mordred's answer was lost as a primal yell sounded behind her, but she made no move to turn around, not even as a second glowing Clarent sliced through the darkness, aimed at her head. Inches away, the second Clarent's blow was blocked by the appearance of Caliburn behind Mordred's back, as if weilded by an unseen hand.

"Friend of yours?" Mordred asked mildly, peering over her shoulder.

Arturia Black did not seem at all concerned. "King Mordred Pendragon, I would like you to meet the commander of my army, the Knight of Blood."

After being named, Mordred's attacker came into a view: a suit of black armor, topped by a horned helmet that gave the appearance of a demon, complete with eyes that glowed red. Despite the introduction, they made no move to break off the attack, and in fact increased their struggle against Caliburn.

"Your leader and I will have our date soon enough," Mordred said. "So I would suggest you withdraw, before I decide to take this as a personal insult."

"You will not threaten my leader and live to boast of it!" the Knight of Blood hissed.

"Mordred Pendragon is no king who crows empty words without action. Rest assured, I would not share the news of your leader's defeat, unless I had the head to show for it."

With a snarl of rage, the Knight of Blood raised Clarent again, preparing to strike.

Mordred sighed and turned to face Arturia Black. "When the time is right-"

"We will find each other, I am sure," Arturia Black answered, watching as Clarent fell, only to shatter into pieces as it struck Caliburn for the second and final time.

"What-" the Knight of Blood begin to gasp in shock, and then Caliburn silenced any further talk when it slashed upward, cracking the black armor and cleaving the horned helmet in two pieces. Under any other circumstances, the strike would have left a mortal wound. But in this case, Arturia Black had appeared behind her commander and yanked them back exactly three inches.

If Mordred was surprised to see a thinner, haunted version of her own face staring back at her, then she hid it well. "There are far better ways to die, than unnessecarily defending your king's honor."

Arturia Black frowned. "I am no king."

Mordred snorted. "You wear my father's face, and you wield Excalibur. You are a king, until you lose that sword, or I cut your head from your neck. Would a soldier throw away their life so carelessly for a mere leader?"

"You know very well why this one would, for me," Arturia Black countered, squeezing the Knight of Blood's soldier. "And why I would not allow you to kill this one."

"Careful. You're sounding more and more like my father every second," Mordred teased. "Well, the promise stands: I'll kill you, eventually. Both of you, if you prefer. But until then, I won't stand for any version of me to go around without a proper weapon." She snapped her fingers loudly. "Oi, Sensei! I think I've found what you've been looking for!"

At once, a tall man appeared at Mordred's side. His face was scarred and aged, his hair was long and white, and the silver armor he wore was far too pristine to have seen even a single battle. The overwhelming aura that surrounded him suggested only two things: a wealth of experience in combat, and a purity that no mortal man should be able to possess.

Arturia Black stiffened, something that the Knight of Blood noticed immediately.

"What game is this, Mordred?" the old man asked wearily.

"No game, Sensei." Mordred pointed at the Knight of Blood. "That's the one."

"Really," the old man said doubtfully. He stared at the Knight of Blood, and then at the fallen remains of her Clarent. "Certainly seems like you've been having fun here, though."

"Are you going to do the test or not? I didn't drag you out here for nothing."

"There's no point. You destroyed the sword."

"That isn't needed and you know it, Sensei," Mordred said irritably. "You're just trying to be difficult."

The old man coughed. "As if you deserve any less, after all that you've put me through."

"Hey, that's not fair! I learned plenty from you! You taught me how to fight!"

"No, I showed you how a knight fights. You exploited that by only learning how to target the flaws in a knight's technique."

"Well, it only made sense. You didn't have any, everyone else did. But I still learned!"

Arturia Black interrupted at that point. "Sorry, but... _you_ trained Mordred?"

The old man paused. "Why so surprised? You asked me to. Or some Arturia did. And let me tell you, squashing the rebellion out of this imp was harder than pulling dragon teeth."

Mordred scowled. "The test, Sensei?"

"Fine, fine." The old man gestured slightly, the broken Clarent instantly reformed, floating before the Knight of Blood. "There. It's only a temporary patch job, but it doesn't need to last long. Come at me with everything you have. I will defend myself with... this." The old man produced a mere twig from his pocket.

Snarling at the perceived insult, the Knight of Blood raced forward, Clarent raised for a fatal blow.

The old man actually waited for the best possible moment, and then parried with the twig.

Clarent broke again, but this time there was no avoiding the impact behind the blow, and Arturia Black did not interfere. The Knight of Blood shrieked as a white light blinded her, and was driven backward by incredible force. She remained standing, but just barely.

"There is potential," the old man murmured. "We'll call this a pass, then. Congratulations."

The Knight of Blood glared at him, panting slightly. "So? What does that mean?"

"It means you get this." A new sword appeared before the Knight of Blood. It was instantly recognizable to all present.

"But this is... Arondight!" the Knight of Blood gasped in awe.

The old man nodded. "Indeed. You would expect me to carry any other sword?"

Arturia Black shook her head in disbelief. "Lancelot... my old friend. This is far too great a gift, even for my child."

"It is only because this is your child that I would ever part with this sword," Lancelot corrected. "And it it less a gift, and more a challenge. You two have been dyed in darkness. This is a holy sword. I can't imagine it would be easy for you to wield. But if you can master it, Knight of Blood, it will truly be your sword then. If you can't... well, I've learned not to expect too much from people with that face."

"Sensei, I am your king, you know," Mordred said mildly.

Lancelot smirked. "No, you are the child of my king, who then rose to the throne. There is a difference. I still honor and serve you, of course. In the most informal possible way." He turned back to the Knight of Blood, who was still staring at Arondight. "So? Are you up to the challenge?"

The Knight of Blood blinked, then scowled at him. "There is no sword in existence that I fear." She reached for the sword.

"This is about respecting the sword, not fearing it," Lancelot warned, but the Knight of Blood had already seized the sword. At once, her black armor faded to a dull gray, and her body sagged, as if trying to hold up a great weight.

"What is this?!" she demanded. "My power has been sealed!"

"Sapped, not sealed. As I said, it is a holy sword. What would you expect it to do, when it senses darkness in its weilder? It is suppressing that power, in an attempt to save you. It will not accept that this is your power. It does not understand you. Or rather, you do not understand it. But that may come in time. And then, it may not. That is for you to determine." Lancelot turned to Mordred. "Our business here is done, I believe. Who knows what trouble your dog will get into while you're away?"

* * *

Even though she was about to enter a fight for her life, Archer could not help but feel at peace, once she was under the open sky. Ruler had consented to taking the battle outside, where there would be more room to maneuver, not that he expected to need it himself. Archer had chosen a small courtyard on the Tohsaka estate, figuring that Ruler would not have much patience for a drawn-out relocation. More importantly, she was just thankful that he had chosen to drop in while Rin wasn't home.

"So how will you attempt to entertain me, False Archer?" Ruler asked.

"If my struggle to survive amuses you, Ruler, then so be it," Archer replied. "As I said, my death has been predetermined, and you are not the one who will kill me. I mean no disrespect, but I have seen my own end. You are not a factor."

"Mongrel," Ruler said in a soft, dangerous tone. "You dare to say that I, Ruler, am not a factor in any aspect of my very own game? For that alone, you must die."

Archer sighed. "I knew no answer I could give would satisfy you, which is why I knew this battle was inevitable. Shall we get to it, then?"

Ruler simply threw the battle axe in his hand directly at Archer's head. She dodged aside with ease, as expected. He reacted by summoning a trio of golden portals behind him.

"You can ask, you know," Archer offered. "Unless that would damage your pride too much. I could just tell you."

"To what are you referring to, mongrel?" Ruler demanded.

"You were right to say I am no Archer. But you have not once called me by my current Class. I can only conclude that at least some of my status is concealed from you. But I have no Skill, nor Noble Phantasm, that should impact anyone in such a way, least of all a Ruler. That leaves only one possible explanation, and I think you will find it most illuminating."

Ruler glared at her. "Go on."

"You know my name and my legend. You know the goddess I owe my life to. The power I possess now is a combined blessing, given to me by her and her twin brother. With your status as Ruler, and A rank Divinity, nothing about me should be hidden from your eyes. You have already confirmed your Divinity rank, via the Noble Phantasm of Heracles. This can only mean that Heracles recognizes your restored Divinity rank... but the other gods of Olympus do not."

"SILENCE!" Ruler roared, as dozens of portals joined the original trio, and weapons of every size and shape emerged from them, each a Noble Phantasm.

Archer shook her head. "Since your eyes are unable to see it, I will explain why that method of attack is not effective against me. For my lifelong devotion to children, the god Apollo has given me command over every ray of sunlight. They are my arrows, the sky is my quiver, and my bow is all of the-"

"You would pit mere sunlight against my treasures?" Ruler laughed. "So be it."

"Perhaps experience would be the best teacher in this case," Archer said.

Ruler ignored her and attacked again. And again. And again.

And Archer didn't dodge anymore. If she had, that would have been annoying enough. What she did was infinitely more insulting, in Ruler's eyes: she _did_ use sunlight against his many treasures. And the sunlight was _winning_.

There was much more to it, of course. Ruler noticed that right away. Archer was pelting each of his treasures with anywhere from three to seven distinct sunbeams, and the last one always managed to shatter the treasure, regardless of how many sunbeams had been used against it. And yet, Ruler was certain that each and every sunbeam had the same amount of power, and that that power was never as high as A rank, while many of his treasures were. There was definitely more going on than he knew, and though he hated to even consider it, Archer might have been correct: something was still hidden from his eyes.

* * *

Rider was jolted awake by something warm and wet dragging against her cheek. She was only slightly comforted to find that it had been Berserker, who had leaned in for another lick until she sensed that Rider was awake.

"What is it, dear one?" Rider sighed.

Berserker immediately tugged on Rider's arm, obviously wanting her to follow. Wondering what had gained Berserker's interest, but suspecting it would be nothing to be happy about, Rider followed to the end of the alley they'd been sleeping in.

Sure enough, it was nothing to be happy about: Rider immediately recognized the boy that they had fed from earlier. Oddly, he seemed to have fully recovered already. He was accompanied by two girls, and worse, they both appeared to have strong magical power.

Berserker cared about none of those details, however. It was clear from the way she was shifting restlessly what she wanted: to feed on the boy again. Apparently, she'd taken a liking to him, though not in any positive way.

"Absolutely not," Rider said at once, drawing a moan of disappointment from Berserker. "You could easily kill him by mistake, if you're this eager to feed on him again. Haven't I told you, that isn't our goal? Yes, we must feed, but we are to take no pleasure in it."

"So you have your monster leashed, do you?" said a voice above them. "I hope your grip is better than looks would suggest, then."

Berserker growled, instantly leaping in front of Rider, her chains rustling in preparation to attack.

Lancer eyed them calmly from his seat on the edge of the nearby roof. "I would greet you by True Name, but I must admit that I can't decide which of you is Medusa. And I'd rather not think about her having two bodies just now."

Rider frowned at him. "If you know us, then it's only fair that we should know you."

Lancer stiffened as a peculiar sensation washed over him. "What did you-?"

"Achilles," Rider murmured, sounding satisfied. "That explains it."

Lancer glared at her. "How did you do that?" he demanded.

"Simple. I cheated." Rider shrugged. "Complain to Ruler, if you like. I merely borrowed his Skill long enough to confirm your name. He consented to that much, although he did indicate that my viewing anything else about you would be pushing it. Fortunate for me that your fame has told me enough."

"Whatever you think you know about me, it won't spare you."

"I know you have sworn to never use that spear against a woman."

Lancer shook his head. "Then you should also know that I consider your companion, in her current state, more monster than woman. So I won't hesitate to slay her, with or without the spear, if she comes near my Master again. And even if she doesn't, I'll still be the one to defeat her. You, little one, I'll spare. But I cannot speak for the other Servants. And without your monster, I don't much like your chances."

"Worry about yourself. This war is about survival, not heroics. Your honor is an obstacle, while my willingness to do whatever it takes will see me through to the end."

"Convince yourself first. You leash your monster long enough for us to converse, and you tell me exactly what you are capable of. If honor is truly an obstacle here, then it's a problem for us both."

Rider was many things, but above all else, in that moment, she was a young girl who had been complimented by a handsome man. So she could not be blamed for her instinctive reaction: blushing and ducking her head.

It was that, more than anything else, that convinced Lancer to leave things there. "Remember my warning, Medusa. I won't tolerate some beast sniffing around my Master, looking for a second chance to bite."

Rider frowned as he vanished. "He didn't react at all to the power of my voice. He must have very strong resistances, or some Skill that guards him. We'll need to be very careful with him."

* * *

It did not take long at all. After wasting a grand total of thirty-seven Noble Phantasms, Ruler lost his patience with the game. He wasn't winning, after all.

"Mongrel. I demand that you tell me how you have continued to avoid certain doom at my hands."

Archer sighed. "I did offer to tell you earlier, if you recall. It's not like I'm trying to hide anything."

"Do you dare to test the limits of my patience even further, False Archer?"

"_Former_ Archer is more accurate, actually. My current Class is Seer, an Archer evolution."

Even as she said it, Ruler saw the information being added to her read-out, proving it was true.

"And as for what's been costing you several of your treasures, that's my first Noble Phantasm, Endless Reign. It is nowhere near as powerful or varied as your Gate of Babylon... but then, it doesn't need to be. While your Gate boasts the 'terrifying power of variety', my Reign boasts the 'frightening power of unfailing accuracy' and then some. Not only do I never miss, I always hit a weak point. So it's no wonder that your treasures have been breaking. Surviving even one hit would be impressive, but to take several in a row, with each new hit growing in accuracy and critical hit likelihood... did I forget to mention that last part earlier?"

Ruler pursed his lips, finding it very unlikely that Seer forgot much of anything, if her claims of prophecy had been true... and now it really seemed as though they had.

"So, we could do this all day, if you insist," Seer offered. "All night, as well. I have been given command over stars, as well, so day or night makes little difference to me. Again, if you are concerned for my part in your game, do not be. I will make my exit this very night, and your True Archer will have their time, no doubt. My task has been completed. I have seen Rin Tohsaka safely into the Holy Grail War."

"And who gave you that task?" Ruler asked.

"None other than the spirit of my Master, Tokiomi Tohsaka. You should know, that while he holds no ill will towards you, he was very pleased to learn that you could not interfere with me effectively. He was quite concerned about that. Almost as if he suspected, or knew for certain, that you excelled in driving his comrades into murderous plots against him."

Ruler said nothing to that.

Seer nodded. "Well, if you're done with me, I need to go. I only have a few hours left here. I'd like to see Rin, one last time. Please excuse me, Ruler."

Ruler scowled. "You are excused, Atalanta."

She nodded again and vanished, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

* * *

The basement of the Matou house was the absolute last place that Sakura ever wanted to go again. But, her Servant claimed it was the closest suitable location for the ceremony, and swore that Sakura did not need to be concerned. And indeed, Sakura could neither hear nor see any of the Matou insects this time around. She wasn't sure if they'd been temporarily removed, or if they had merely been suppressed by some sort of magic. Either way, she was glad to not be able to sense them in any way.

Although even if they had been there, Sakura wasn't sure she would have noticed then. The sight of basement filled with armored warriors would have demanded her attention instead.

The crowd parted, and Arturia Black moved forward, gently grasping Sakura's hand and leading her to the middle of the room.

"This is my Master: Sakura, of the noble clan Tohsaka. If you would follow me, you will follow her. I am an instrument of her will, and you are the tools I would use to give form to her dreams. If you agree, come forward and pledge your loyalty!"

One by one, the warriors approached Sakura, knelt at her feet, and offered their weapon, usually a sword, for her inspection. Apparently, Sakura was to nod, signalling her approval, and then the warrior would back away, allowing another to take their turn. Most offered their names, or at least a title that Sakura could address them by. There were far too many for her to remember without some practice.

In any case, it was the final two that seemed the most important: the Knight of the Deep, because he was among the largest of the warriors, and the Knight of Blood, because he seemed to have trouble handling his sword.

When it was over, the warriors simply faded into the shadows and were gone, leaving Sakura and Arturia Black alone. Sakura couldn't be sure if the ceremony had gone well, but at least no one had openly challenged her right to command them, which she had honestly been worried about.

They stopped by Matou's room for a quick visit, and then Arturia Black escorted Sakura home. It was understood by them both that home, for Sakura, was the Tohsaka mansion, even if the Matou mansion was a more suitable power base for Arturia Black. All that mattered was that Arturia Black could go anywhere that Sakura's shadow did, and they had yet to find a place where it could not accompany her.

* * *

Saber had recognized the presence in the Tohsaka mansion at once, though he had not commented on it to his Master, sensing that there would be a chance to address it later. Likewise, when Rin tried to introduce the two of them, only to find that "Archer" was mysteriously absent and would not appear no matter how Rin yelled for her, Saber was not surprised.

Ultimately, he doubted the truth of the legend of the Argonauts was known to many, and he could not blame Rin for being unaware of it. And he could not blame the other that the legend involved not wanting to see him, or at least not wanting to meet him in front of Rin.

So when Saber was patrolling the outskirts of the Tohsaka mansion that night, and she did appear before him, he was surprised, but at the same time, not.

"Mighty Heracles," she said softly. "It has been a long-"

For his part, Saber immediately lowered himself to the ground, and bowed his head until it touched the grass.

"What... what are you doing?" she whispered in shock.

"I beg your forgiveness, fair Atalanta. I have greatly wronged you."

"No, you haven't! You were one of the few who never disgraced-"

"And when the many who did, stained your honor, I did not stop them. I did not speak in your defense."

"I never asked you to, and wouldn't have thanked you if you had!"

"Yet I should have. What you suffered was most unfair, and unnessecary. It lowered my opinion of the men who I called my friends. I imagine it did the same for you, who wanted only to prove yourself worthy to be included in our number. To find that they had less honor than the beasts you hunted must have been a slap in the face."

"I don't ever recall mind-reading being among your talents, and I never took you into my confidence. Never presume to tell a woman her own mind."

"I have offended you once more. I apol-"

"STOP IT!" Atalanta shouted, and she grabbed his hair and yanked upward, forcing him to look at her. "I never wanted this from you!"

"But, as you would never get it from them-" Saber began.

"Why should the most honorable, apologize for the least honorable? What sense does that make? We were never friends, but I never felt dishonored in your presence. Awkward, competitive, and angry, but never dishonored. You owe me no apology, Heracles, and I won't accept one from you. Now, rise. We have other business, you and I. Concerning your Master."

Saber slowly stood up. "I assume young Rin is unaware of our past."

"I saw no reason to educate her on that point. My task was her protection, and little else. And now that you are here, my task is done. There is only thing left: I must die. And if you truly want to apologize to me, then offer me a hero's death at your hands."

Saber closed his eyes. "You would ask that of me? Of all things?"

"I know your oath. We are not kin. Comrades, yes, but-"

"Do you truly believe it is only my oath that should give me reason to hesitate? Do you think me so unfeeling, Atalanta? That I would slay my comrade upon request?"

"This is different! I need to die, and I would prefer-!"

"And if I prefer that you live?"

She froze, her eyes wide. "What are you saying?"

"Stay here. Watch over Rin. See her through as much of the War as you are able."

"Ruler would never allow that, and there is an Archer that is truly meant to be here. I don't belong here."

Saber extended his hand to her. "We can be comrades once more. You said I never disgraced you. Now, give me the chance to honor you, as I should have."

She was tempted, he could see that clearly. Whether he or Rin was the bigger lure, it was hard to say. But in the end, it was impossible. She had already accepted her fate, and his part in it.

"If you will not kill me," she said at last, "then I will ask Achilles to do it in your place."

"And you think he would agree?" Saber asked doubtfully.

"Not unless I told him that you refused. And even if it is this, to do something that mighty Heracles was unable to? I do not think he could resist."

Saber shook his head, but saw that she was determined. "If this is truly what you would ask of me, I will not refuse you. Take my hand, Atalanta."

With a trembling smile, she did so. "Thank you."

"When next we meet," Saber murmured, "I hope you will consider thinking of me as a friend."

"A god who bows to me, unneeded, on another's behalf, never has to worry about obtaining my friendship, Heracles."

This time, the thunderbolt was slightly smaller, but no less effective. Soon enough, Saber stood alone, and the only sign that he had not always been so, was the slight tingling in his hand where she had touched him.

* * *

Sakura woke up to the alarming sensation of soft, hot lips fluttering across her neck. She turned her head and opened her mouth to protest, but this only allowed the lips to come crashing down on top of hers. Hands found hers and pinned them to the bed. Sakura shivered beneath the body on top of her, and when the mouth finally left hers, said what needed to be said.

"Nee-san, please stop."

There was a long pause, and then the hands released her. But the body didn't move away, and when Sakura realized it wasn't going to, she risked a glance above her.

Rin's cheeks were wet with tears, but judging by the redness in them, she had been crying for some time before she decided to wake Sakura.

"What's wrong?" Sakura whispered.

"Archer left," Rin murmured. "I can feel it. Well, I can't feel her anymore, I mean."

"I see." Sakura gently stroked Rin's cheek. "I don't mind cuddling, but-"

"I don't get it," Rin muttered, glaring at her. "You were the one who started this. You stole my first kiss, you insisted on bathing each other, and you wanted to sleep in my bed. Now you're shy all of a sudden?"

Sakura winced. "We have... more important things to worry about now. And... I shouldn't have manipulated you that way. I'm sorry, nee-san."

"I don't want you to be sorry." Rin lowered her head, nipping at Sakura's neck. "I want you to be in the mood for things like this again."

Sakura blushed, and mentally cursed Matou. "Nee-san. Please?"

Rin sighed heavily. "If this is one of your games, it's no fun." But she rolled off of Sakura and tried to get back to sleep.

Sakura moved closer and pressed her face into Rin's back. "Don't be mad."

"Mad and disappointed are two entirely different things, Sakura."

On that much, Sakura could agree. She was extremely disappointed in Matou at the moment. And had she known what Matou was plotting at that very moment, she would have been extremely mad instead.

* * *

Souichirou Kuzuki was not a man who allowed the often abrupt nature of life to bother him. Being a teacher, he had to expect occasional, if not regular, interruptions into what otherwise would have been his daily routine.

This also applied to his personal life.

One morning, when Souichirou left the temple where he'd been staying, Caster was there to see him off.

She disappeared abruptly, having given no warning that she would do so.

And then one evening, days later, when Souichirou returned to the temple, there was a female Servant to welcome him.

It was clearly NOT the same female Servant: she appeared to be much younger, more beautiful, and far more impatient than Caster. Also, she demanded his constant attention, and generally made a nuisance of herself. And, rather than Caster, she answered to the title of True Archer.

And Souichirou... allowed this, because he sensed that, ultimately, each Servant desired the same things from him, and the rest of the world. And as he knew nothing of magic, it was not as if he knew of a way to call Caster back to him, even if he'd wanted to. But he didn't want to. Mainly because, even when his new Servant was telling him how worthless he was, or how worthless all men were... he felt something. And for Souichirou, feeling anything at all was rare enough. But in those moments, he felt... joy. It was strange, to be certain, but he didn't care. With this selfish, insulting girl at his side, his days were more meaningful than they had been. And that was enough.

* * *

There were two things that virtually all of Shinji's peers knew about him: his family was rich, and Shinji almost always had a female companion trailing along behind him. Any amount of common sense would have caused most to conclude that the latter was a direct result of the former, as Shinji's personality left much to be desired, and the only reason any sane girl would endure his company was in the hopes of being handsomely rewarded for it. And gaining Shinji's attention was simply not reward enough, in most cases.

None of this changed much even after Shinji's misadventures with Sakura, although what did change was how Shinji felt about it. Where before he delighted in the attention, now he was aware of how hollow it all was. Now, he had trouble ignoring the fact that these girls were only interested in what he could buy them, where before he hadn't minded at all (although he would often string them along for weeks at a time before opening his wallet). Even if he had been interested in using them for sex, that no longer seemed wise, given his current condition. And, too, while his newly missing hand did gain him a certain amount of sympathy, it also had the unforeseen impact of causing girls to lose interest in sleeping with him. It had never occurred to Shinji that high school girls could be just as shallow as he was, if not more.

It got to the point where Mitsuzuri, of all people, was the only girl that wanted anything to do with Shinji for purely unselfish reasons. From her, there was no pity, only actual concern and friendship. Shinji had always kept her at arm's length, knowing how pushy she could be, and preferring females he could more easily control. The realization that he wanted one of those shallow girls to care as much as Mitsuzuri clearly did bothered him. When had she become the standard for how he wanted to be treated? Probably when she'd become the only one who did care. Oh, Sakura was suddenly pleasant enough now, even formal at times. But Shinji didn't dare poke that hornet's nest again. He only had one hand left, and didn't want to lose it.

Really, it was probably for the best if he avoided girls entirely, from then on.

But before he could even make an attempt to any effort into that, something unexpected happened. One night, as he was about to go to bed, a girl appeared on his pillow. She was young, breathtaking to behold, and easily the most lovely thing Shinji had ever seen, including Sakura naked. And this girl was still fully clothed, so that was quite an accomplishment.

"I see no point in pretending," the girl said. "You are not even close to being worthy of being called my Master. Your mana is near non-existent, your power as a magus is subpar, and I can barely stand the sight of you, you're such a depressing thing. Why, I cannot even resist the urge to belittle you with every passing second." Suddenly, a bright smile bloomed on her face, only increasing her beauty. "You're _perfect_."

Shinji could only stare at her in awe.

Her mood shifted abruptly again, and she scowled at him. "You do not deserve it, but I will tell you my title. For this War, I am the True Assassin. But if you do not address me with the utmost respect, I will make your pitiful life even more miserable, you wriggling worm."

"I understand, Assassin-sama!" Shinji blurted out at once, kneeling on the floor.

Her lips curved into a cruel, but approving smile. "That's a start. From now on, you will be the Servant, and I will be the Master. And though I will take no pleasure in it, we must go through the motions. You need to know your place." With startling speed, she pounced on him, yanked his head up by his hair, and sank her teeth deep into his throat.

It hurt. But rapidly, Shinji felt the pain becoming pleasure, and to his amazement and embarrasment, an orgasm more powerful than anything he'd ever felt rolled through him. On the heels of that, however, was overwhelming shame, especially when he looked down, and saw the growing mess that his pants had become, stained with both his blood and lust.

She should have been disgusted by him. And especially by his blood, with it being as weak, and now tainted, as it was. And perhaps she was disgusted. But instead of showing that, she smiled for him, and twirled a lock of his hair around her finger. "You hopeless wretch," she cooed softly. "I'm going to have so much _fun_ with you."

* * *

Matou wore a wide smile as she sensed the events taking shape around her.

"My perfect War is nearing completion," she whispered. "Everything is falling into place just as I'd hoped. Which means, the time has come at last." Slowly, she lifted the overly large, pulsing worm in her cupped hands, and tenderly kissed it. And then she laughed, cruelly and maniacally. The laughter cut off abruptly, and she turned to stare out of her window into the night sky.

"It's finally time for you to die, my beloved Kiritsugu." She clenched her fists and tore the worm in two, splattering its innards all over the floor.

* * *

It started as a dull, throbbing pain in his arm that night.

By morning, it was agony just to sit up in bed. And the moment Kiritsugu did so, he felt violently ill. He turned his head, thinking he would vomit, but instead his body seemed to triple in weight, and he fell, managing to avoid slamming his head into the nightstand, but instead banging his already aching arm against it. But his head and arm were the least of his problems.

He could feel the worms, having chewed through the seal on his arm, having worked their way his chest, and now feeding directly on his beating heart.

He tried to call for Shirou, but his voice failed him.

It didn't matter. In the next moment, Shirou burst into the room, either having heard Kiritsugu fall, or somehow sensing his distress. He took in the scene at a glance, then grabbed the phone from the nightstand.

Kiritsugu knew Shirou was not calling a hospital, as it would do no good, and was soon proven right.

"Rin, _get over here_! Kiritsugu's dying!"

Kiritsugu was offended on some level, he wasn't dead _yet_. But, he didn't see any way out of this, and it was right, that Rin should be here, if she could make it in time. She had duties to fullfill, and in a very real sense, she would soon be Shirou's guardian, or at least his family head.

Then Shirou gripped Kiritsugu's shoulders, and, not knowing what else to do, simply hugged his father tightly.

It did not help Kiritsugu at all, but he welcomed the distraction, and surely it was helping Shirou.

Together, they waited for the end to come.

* * *

Rin and Sakura were in such a hurry to reach the Emiya residence that they barely even noted the state of the sky.

But Saber saw it at once, and knew what it meant.

Lancer saw it as well, and though he had only heard the stories, could not mistake the meaning, either.

The sunrise had come to usher in the day, as it always had. Or tried to, anyway. But curious, red-tinted clouds had filled the sky. And though the sun itself was not visible, what little light it could send was filtered through the crimson clouds, bathing the sky a bloody red.

"Olympus protect us," Lancer muttered. "We're in the damned Temple of Blood itself."

**End of Chapter 6.**

* * *

**Continued in Chapter 6: A Family Divided**

With his end fast approaching, Kiritsugu startles his students with a seemingly impossible deathbed request. Shirou refuses, but Rin doesn't hesitate, and the fallout leaves a rift between them that may never be healed. But with mysterious disappearances and attacks on the rise all over the city, this is no time for the Tohsaka family to be distracted.

* * *

**Endnotes:**

To the person who asked (but didn't leave a way to contact them - why even bother to ask?): I've now glanced at Garden of Avalon. I'm not sure why it matters to you, but all it has done is increased my desire to use a different version of events. So, if like I suspect, you were thinking my use of the characters was a bit too off-base, prepare for that to be even more the case. In general, my approach to fanfiction is to make things different from canon. How different varies, but obviously in this case, very different. I wish I could go into more detail, but since you didn't, I really have no idea what exactly you're commenting on. Again, if you're expecting a direct, private response, leave a way for me to do that.

Depending on the source, Atalanta either was an Argonaut, was one but the guys weren't happy about it, wanted to be one but wasn't allowed, or refused to be one when invited. And that's enough negative versions for me to think that ultimately, probably wasn't a wholly positive experience for her no matter how it went down. So this is the version I'm going with: she was one, the guys mostly didn't like it, Heracles could have spoken up for her but didn't. Though as she said, she would have taken much more offense if he'd tried to defend her.

I didn't exactly put it in her bio, but according to the Type Moon wiki, young Medusa and her sisters all have voices capable of a sort of fascination magic. I say exactly because it is called Alluring Nightingale, which I did include.

You're probably thinking, way too many Servants at once. Well, that's true. But keep in mind: Caster and now Seer (who was preventing True Archer from being summoned), have gone, and the latest two (True) arrivals have filled those spots. Which, yes, is still too many Servants, but not so many: Mordred is an extra Class, there are two Assassins, and no Caster... sort of. More on that next time.

Did I mention I don't like Shinji?

There's probably much more I wanted to comment on, but I can't think of anything just now, so please ask questions or comment if you're confused.

* * *

Next time, bios for True Archer and True Assassin.

BIOS:

**Mordred Pendragon **

_Noble Phantasm:_  
(Inversion) **Back to My Pride: Rank Unknown**

Mordred could never truly appreciate her father's habit of standing alone between an oncoming threat and the kindgom. And yet, she would do the same, not for kingdom, but for family. If Mordred determines that something is a significant threat to her family, she may evade any obstacle in order to confront the threat.

* * *

**Atalanta**  
_A.K.A._ "Archer", False Archer  
_Class_: Seer  
For one who already possessed an Archer's superior eyesight, an evolution of that Class, based entirely on the amplification of vision, is a natural choice. As the name suggests, a Seer peers into the time stream, and reacts based on what they find. For Atalanta, who could already control the flow of battle whether she moved first or last, this is hardly an adjustment.

_Class Skills_:  
**Soothsaying: B**  
The ability to accurately view, interpret, and relay prophecy to others. Atalanta's rank is lowered because she is forbidden to give prophecy to those it involves, so for the most part, her soothsaying is for the sake of increasing her own knowledge of events.

**Independent Action: A**

**Pre-Evasion: A**  
Rather than Magic Resistance, the Seer class features Pre-Evasion, a Skill that allows them to peer slightly into the future, spot incoming attacks, and either react before they hit, or are even launched, depending on the user's rank. This Skill tends to be highly ranked by necessity, as due to a lack of Magic Resistance, Seers do not typically fair well against highly ranked magecraft.

**Riding: C**  
Having been raised by a female bear, Atalanta learned to ride on its back at a very young age. Additionally, her fellow hunters taught her to ride horses. Being summoned as a Seer gives her easy access to those memories, and so, she has Riding once more. Now, however, the most common usage is driving Rin to and from school.

_Personal Skills_:  
**Crossing Arcadia: B+ **

**Brightest Star Beneath the Sky: B**  
Atalanta no longer carries her bow and arrows. There is no need. Artemis has granted her command over every star in the sky, and Apollo every ray of sunlight. Without even a gesture, she can bury a target under a shower of plummeting stars, or impale with burning sunbeams.

**Divine Eyes: EX**  
Atalanta's lifelong devotion to the goddess Artemis, and the wellfare of children, earned her the distinction of being blessed by both Artemis and Apollo. This takes the form of two Divine Constructs: a special pair of eyes that allow her to view the flow of time. The Ray of Apollo peers into the future, as the Glow of Artemis gazes into the past. They are the key to Atalanta's power as a Seer, and while she would not be powerless if they were sealed, it would reduce her abilities to that of an Archer.

_Noble Phantasms_:  
**Endless Reign: B+**  
In tribute to the twin gods who favor her, Atalanta summons a never-ending barrage. The B+ rank is misleading, as the attack also boasts EX rank accuracy and a gradually increasing critical hit ratio. After but a few seconds, it is even capable of destroying lower rank Noble Phantasms.  
Where Gilgamesh's Gate of Babylon boasts the terrifying power of "a variety of heroic death tools", Atalanta wields the equally frightening power of "the inability to miss weak points". Her eyes reveal a target's legendary weaknesses, and her attacks never fail to strike those points. The only way to survive her assault is to end her attack immediately, but that would require either darkening every star in the sky, or blocking out the sun.

**Aboard the Argo: B**  
Atalanta recieves a Rank Up in Luck when in the presence of a male Argonaut. Not due to any sort of friendship, but out of a burning desire to prove her worthiness and quiet their naysaying.

* * *

**Arturia Alter**  
_A.K.A._ "Arturia Black"  
_Class(es)_: Assassin, Avenger  
_History_: It should not be possible for this Servant to be summoned in this Class. And yet, one cannot deny the ease with which she wields the power of darkness, how perfectly she drifts in and out of the shadows, the dark determination with which she serves her Master. So, it should not be possible for this Servant to be summoned in this Class. And yet, it should not be possible for this Class to exist, without the possibility of summoning this Servant. For when the King of Knights is dyed in darkness, and unsheathes her black Excalibur in her Master's defense, lives will certainly be lost.

_Class Skills_:  
**Magic Resistance: B - EX**  
Her natural defense against magic is considerable, but not complete. But in this state, it rarely applies at all. The Shadow defends her from all manner of attack. Only on her own, or her Master's orders, would the Shadow allow an opponent's attack to touch her form.

**Presence Concealment: EX**  
Her armor is heavy with mana and clanks when she walks, and her very aura screams of overwhelming power. How, then, could she possibly conceal her presence? The answer: the Shadow. It accompanies her always, swallowing up any noise her movement makes, erasing her presence entirely as it does its own, instantly transporting her through solid matter to strike down her targets. This Skill, at this rank, via this method, would normally only apply to someone blessed (or cursed) with Affections of the Holy Grail. But to suggest that she is not favored by some Grail, somewhere, would be to deny the obvious.

_Personal Skills_:  
**Charisma: D**  
Arturia's admission of imperfection ironically renewed the faith of her closest followers, and though she is convinced she does not deserve their loyalty, she holds it close and treasures it.

**Instinct: B**

**Mana Burst: A**

_Noble Phantasms_:  
**Excalibur Morgan: A++**  
Though Invisible Air would be a natural choice to sheathe Excalibur in this Class, it is absent. One might assume that Excalibur Morgan is too powerful, or perhaps too dark, to be compatible with a blessing originally bestowed upon an untainted Arturia. In any case, Excalibur Morgan can be summoned instantly to Arturia's hand. And with no sheathe, it is up to the foe's defenses to either survive a direct blow from the mighty sword, or be swept away like ashes.

**Assassins of the Round: Rank Varies**  
In response to Arturia being summoned in this Class, a new legend was crafted for her by the Holy Grail on the spot. Camelot did not so much fall as cease to exist, with the abrupt disappearance of its greatest knights. The astonished and heartbroken people searched in vain for an answer as to why the Knights of the Round vanished. They could never understand: upon glimpsing the truth of her reign as a hollow existence doomed to fail, Arturia abandoned Camelot. She chose to submerge herself in the world's darkness, hoping that such a drastic departure from her ideals would teach her the whole meaning of perfect kingship. Instead, she was shocked when her former knights, even the ones who had turned away from her or plotted her downfall, followed her, their loyalty renewed by her admission of imperfection and quest to improve. "If you had tried to keep your kingdom, I would have destroyed you," the Knight of Blood admitted. "But now I see that despite their great power, neither of my parents is perfect. If there is still much you can learn about being a king, then there must be even more that I can learn from continuing as your sword." Where Arturia goes, they will follow. Knights no more: blood is their drink, death their food, and shadows their armor. Blades pledged to the unending darkness beneath the empty Round Table...


	7. A Family Divided, Part 1

Notes: Ironically, part of the reason this took so long was because I got addicted to FGO and similar games. That being the case, I decided to split this chapter. And if you ever wondered why I don't normally do summaries of the previous chapter, check out THIS monster paragraph...

Previously in Oathkeepers:  
Sakura prepared to assume the role of "Sakura Matou" under Matou's guidance. Shirou met Team Medusa, but emerged with no memory of them, and slightly less blood. Kiritsugu explained his actions at the previous War's end to a somewhat familiar Servant in black. Rin and Shiro summoned their Servants (Saber Heracles and Lancer Achilles), but Sakura "failed", because she had already privately summoned Assassin Arturia Black, who made it clear that she would obey no other Master. Refusing to tolerate the presence of a fake in his game, Ruler Gilgamesh challenged "Archer" (later revealed to be "Seer" Atalanta), but her Noble Phantasm perfectly countered his, leading to a draw. Mordred met Arturia Black, and gifted the sword Arondight to Arturia's second, the Knight of Blood. Achilles warned Team Medusa to stay away from Shirou, and swore to defeat them. Atalanta asked Heracles to give her an honorable death, and he reluctantly agreed. True Archer and True Assassin took their places in the War. Matou activated the final stage of Kiritsugu's curse, intending him to die in agony. The sky turned a bloody red, leaving those who recognized the sign in dread.

* * *

**Oathkeepers**  
**A Fate Series Fusion by**  
**Nate Grey (xman0123-at-aol-dot-com)**  
**Chapter 6: A Family Divided, Part 1**

* * *

Rin had only had a few opportunities to study a live Matou worm. Kiritsugu had contributed a few to the cause, although only under his strict supervision, and he had taken them back afterwards. Rin had never actually seen one burrowing through living flesh, but she understood the general idea of what was most likely happening to Kiritsugu, and that it surely could not feel pleasant.

Naturally, her knowledge hardly compared to Sakura's, who had seen the horrible things roaming freely numerous times, and thankfully, usually from a safe distance. But the fact remained that the person in the room with the least idea of what Kiritsugu was feeling at the moment was Shirou. And so it either made perfect sense, or very little sense, what Kiritsugu asked of his son.

"Shirou," Kiritsugu hissed through gritted teeth as he writhed on what would surely be his deathbed. "I need you to kill me."

There was no explanation needed. Kiritsugu was obviously in agony, and none of his students knew of anything that could save his life.

Shirou's answer was both prompt and firm. He learned over Kiritsugu and said, "No." Again, no explanation was needed.

Rather than waste time asking again his son again, Kiritsugu turned his gaze to Rin, who narrowed her eyes. Neither said a word, but it was clear from the intensity of their gazes that a silent conversation was unfolding between them. And once it ended, Rin nodded stiffly, shoved Shirou aside, and pointed at Kiritsugu with her right hand.

"Gandr!" she hissed, and something like a black bullet laced with a crimson aura flew from her fingertip, boring straight into Kiritsugu's forehead, leaving a tiny hole behind. There must have been some consideration given to the potential mess, because other than a thin trickle of blood leaking from the hole, Kiritsugu remained largely presentable, even as he breathed his last breath.

For a long moment, no one reacted.

And then, it was as if Shirou's refusal to kill had chosen that moment to disappear. He turned slowly to Rin, and said in a deceptively calm tone, "I'll be waiting outside. Then, I'm going to kill you."

Rin said nothing to this, but she did nod, which was enough for Shirou to leave the room.

"Nee-san, you're not really going to-?" Sakura began.

"Of course I won't let him kill me, Sakura," Rin cut in. "But he does need to vent. Although it's his own fault, for not having the guts to do the deed himself."

"But you two can't fight!" Sakura protested.

"Tell Shirou that," Rin replied. "It's not as if I want this. But what was I supposed to do, stand there and watch Kiritsugu die like a dog while those horrible things ate their way through his heart? He deserved better than that. And Shirou's wishes aren't so important that I would let them prevent Kiritsugu from dying with dignity."

"But you know Shirou has been dreading this day-"

"Then he should have done what I did, and prepared himself for it."

Sakura frowned. "If it were your father-"

"My father would have told me the exact spell to use, and given me a signal of when to use it. Just as Kiritsugu did. If he didn't prepare Shirou, or more likely, if Shirou refused to be prepared, then it's not my fault. I kept my word to Kiritsugu. And I'll continue looking after his idiot son, like I promised. If that means beating the son's face in every now and then, so be it. I also need to vent." Rin paused and gazed at the still form on the bed. "Kiritsugu was very important to me, too."

"Of course he was," Sakura said at once, taking Rin's hand. "And you should tell Shirou that."

Rin shook her head stubbornly. "I won't. If he is too focused on his own pain to see that we're also hurting, then I will beat that lesson into him. He, of all people, should know what Kiritsugu meant to someone who already lost their first father." She bowed to Kiritsugu's body. "I'm sorry about all this, Sensei. Maybe it isn't the way you would have handled things, exactly. But trust me, they will be handled. I swear it."

"Nee-san, you're not really going to-?" Sakura tried again.

Rin paused. "You have a point."

Sakura started to relax, but she should have known better.

"Lancer? You're here, aren't you?" Rin asked.

After a long moment, Lancer appeared, looking surly about it. "You aren't my Master, little missy. You don't get to call me."

"This is an emergency, obviously," Rin said dismissively. "I want your word that you won't interfere in our fight. Your Master demanded it, and we won't be able to move on until it's over with. I won't be trying to kill him, just bruise him a bit is all."

Lancer sighed. "Fine. But you keep oji-san out of it, too. This is between you and my Master, not your Servants."

"That's acceptable." Rin nodded. "I'm glad we can agree on this."

"Yeah, well, despite what my Master says, I'm sure he doesn't actually want you dead. And I wouldn't let him kill you, even if he wanted to."

Rin seemed startled by that. "Really? Why?"

"Several reasons, but mainly because that's not the way I want to fight oji-san." Lancer grinned. "And trust me, if anyone tried to kill you, they would definitely have to fight oji-san."

* * *

When Rider first raised her eyes that day, and saw the red sky, she did not know immediately what it meant. She only knew what it felt like: home.

Berserker went unusually still and silent, and Rider actually had to call her twice to gain her attention, which had never happened before. The distraction was understandable, even in a body that no longer held memories of such a sky.

For Rider, the meaning was suppressed. But for Berserker, who was guided by instinct alone, everything in her told her to be on high alert. And to listen, harder than she ever had before. As for the reason: she was about to hear something, something extremely important to her. Something even more important than Rider's voice, although neither of them knew that at the time. What they did know, or at least sense, was that something major had shifted in their favor, and the day belonged to them.

* * *

A mess of bodies was nothing new, for him.

There were two types: a mess in which the bodies had been considerably damaged by some means, and a mess in which the bodies had been tossed about haphazardly instead of being neatly positioned.

The current mess was of the second type, which at least was easier to clean up. Which, as he had increasingly seen the wisdom in hiding such activities, became more important to him over time.

He watched in silence as the girl finished her latest meal, then dropped the body, that of a man twice her size, without hesitation or consideration. She licked her bloody lips with a small, pink tongue, and stared at some point in the distance for a long moment. Finally, she turned to him and said, "Do you hear a voice, Sou-chan?"

He would never adjust to being referred to that way, but she had proven incredibly stubborn and excessively whiny when he tried to protest. "No."

"Just me, then. But I definitely hear it. And it's closer, now. Coming this way."

He nodded. "I'll prepare for intruders, then."

"No!"

He paused, curious about the alarm in her tone. "Why not? Do you recognize this voice as friendly?"

She didn't answer him, though he wasn't sure if it was because she had no answer, or if she was just trying to be difficult, again. But she'd made her feelings clear enough, for the moment: visitors, but not intruders, were expected.

* * *

Rin was not visibly concerned, or even upset, as she joined Shirou in the Emiya backyard. She appeared to be in complete control of her emotions. That only reinforced Shirou's mistaken idea that she didn't care that she'd killed Kiritsugu. But Sakura knew Rin better than that. Of course Rin had cared for Kiritsugu, and in fact that was why she'd killed him: to instantly release him from the final agony of a slow, curse-filled death. Shirou had to know that, as well, on some level. But on the face of it, he hadn't been ready to lose his father, and Rin had snatched Kiritsugu away from Shirou. They both needed to vent over the loss, and apparently, fighting each other was the best way they had found.

Shirou did not wait for or offer any signal to start, and if Rin had been expecting anything else from him in that moment, she might have been both annoyed and unprepared. Instead, when a rapidly spinning object briefly appeared over Shirou's head and then hurled itself at Rin, she deflected it with a well-placed shield of emerald energy. So far, that was nothing they hadn't done while sparring, although Shirou had never attacked Rin without warning, unless first directed to by Kiritsugu. And that would hardly count, as Kiritsugu had stressed that Rin should always be ready to defend herself.

The difference this time, however, was that Shirou didn't stop. He continued to hurl the objects at Rin as fast as he could create them. And Rin continued to deflect them with no real effort.

For her part, Rin was disappointed, but not shocked. Shirou was too emotional to think clearly. It was too much to hope for any real kind of strategy from him, but she'd thought he'd do better than this. From the moment they discovered his talent for materializing weapon cores, Kiritsugu had estimated that Shirou's potential was nearly limitless. And indeed, when Shirou was properly focused, he could create not only the core of a weapon, but the entire weapon around it. But for now, he was really only throwing chunks of wood or metal around. It actually made Rin glad that Kiritsugu wasn't alive to see Shirou's gift wasted to such a degree.

The first sign that anything was wrong was in Shirou's expression. He was furious, surely, but not frustrated. In fact, the longer the fight went on, the less angry he seemed. And rather than attribute that to being allowed to vent properly, Rin thought his inability to hit her should have been making him feel less satisfied. There was no reason for this curious calm to settle over him.

"Nee-san!" Sakura suddenly shrieked, her eyes wide. "Behind you!"

Rin spun around. There was a dull orange core floating a few inches from her face. Rin wasn't sure what to think. She'd never seen Shirou produce anything like it. She couldn't even determine what material it was composed of. And beyond that, it was motionless, so there was clearly no intent to throw it at her.

Without warning, the core suddenly lit up, a bright red swirl of energy storming up from its depths. And while Rin still had no idea what this thing could do, she abruptly had no desire to be anywhere near it when it finally did do something. But before she could react, the choice was taken out of her hands, and later on, she would be glad that was the case.

Saber moved faster than her eyes could follow, sliding in front of her and gently folding Rin into his large arms. He completely blocked the sight of Lancer, who appeared at Saber's back and whipped out a shield, an instant before the core gave off a sinister whine and exploded. Or tried to, but Lancer glared and pressed forward with his shield, and though the roar and some of the light managed to escape, anything else associated with the explosion was drawn into the shield and lost.

For several seconds, no one moved, or seemed to understand what had happened.

Then Sakura marched up to Shirou, and slapped him hard across the face. "She only agreed to this fight to help you! But you actually tried to kill her!"

Shirou glared at her. "She killed-!"

"Kiritsugu was dead the moment he was cursed, Shirou! He managed to defy it for a few more years, but it was always going to kill him! All nee-san did was give him a way to avoid a more painful end! And you forget that he asked you to do it for him, first! So don't blame her for doing what you couldn't get done when asked!"

"So you're taking her side, then?" Shirou demanded.

"You don't have a side, boy," Saber interrupted coldly. "You failed to honor your father's last wish, tried to murder your sister, and have disgraced your entire family. The only reason I do not strike you down now is because my Master will not allow me to. If you insist on continuing this, know that not even your Servant will aid you."

Shirou looked at Lancer. "Is he right?"

Lancer shifted uncomfortably. "Look, little bro. I wasn't going to say anything, in case this was how you needed to express your grief. But you took things too far. And no offense, but if it was me dying slowly, and a buddy offered to kill me quick, I wouldn't turn him down. I know you didn't want to lose your father, but you had passed the point where you were only prolonging his pain out of selfishness."

Shirou glared at him. "Fine. Then I don't need any of you!"

Lancer blinked. "You'll regret that, but I'll leave you alone, for now. I'd advise against doing anything else that would piss off oji-san, if I were you, though." He faded from view.

Shirou was not so furious that he couldn't see the wisdom in that. All the same, he could not help glaring at Rin.

Rin did not appear shaken by the fact that Shirou had tried to kill her. But she was looking at Shirou as if she'd never seen him before.

"I think we should leave, nee-san," Sakura said.

"Just a minute, Sakura." Rin slowly walked over to Shirou. "I should congratulate you, Shirou."

"For what?" Shirou asked.

"You almost killed me. You're a true mage, now. I'm proud of you."

Shirou blinked and stared at her. "You are, aren't you?"

Rin nodded. "Yes."

He sneered at her. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Shirou, what did you think Kiritsugu was training us for all of this time?"

"That's different! We're supposed to kill enemies! Not each oth-!" He stopped, staring in horror at Rin's smug expression.

"Shirou, if you really see me as your enemy, then there's nothing wrong with what you just did. But if not, then I would hope, if Sakura or I was in the same state as Kiritsugu, you would do what needed to be done. We would do it for you."

Shirou turned away from her. "You should both leave. And don't come back."

"If that's how you want it, for now. But when you change your mind, you know where to find us." Rin turned and walked away. "We're leaving, Sakura."

Sakura hesitated, but eventually followed Rin.

Shirou did not relax until he sensed Saber's presence had gone as well. Then he sat down right there in the yard, and tried to figure out what to do next.

* * *

Illyasviel opened her eyes, yawned, and stretched.

She noticed that something was wrong immediately.

Her body felt... different. And when she got up and looked into the full-length mirror near her closet, she saw why.

She was older. Taller. And, she saw with a blush, more developed. She gave every appearance of now being in her early twenties. But any joy faded quickly.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Her time had already virtually stopped. This wasn't possible.

Unless.

"The Grail," she whispered, slowly touching her face with longer, unfamiliar fingers. "But I didn't wish for this."

"You wished to be Mordred's queen," said a voice behind her. "I assume this is part of that."

Illyasviel did not immediately recognize the face she spotted appearing over her shoulder in the reflection, but as she stared, something turned over in her mind, and she knew. "Saber? Is that you?"

"That is the name you would have called that Servant, when you first met. But this is a new day, and a new Holy Grail War, Illyasviel. Much has changed."

"Then what do I call you?" Illyasviel could see that much had indeed changed. This Servant was not dressed for battle. Rather, the golden crown on their head, and the silver robe draped across their shoulders indicated royalty, but of the type who sat on a throne and ruled, instead of the type who rode into battle.

"For now? Silver. That will do, I think."

Illyasviel blinked. "Okay. And why are you here?"

"You wish to be a queen. I am here to see that you are properly educated on how to be one."

"I see." Illyasviel glanced around. "Where's Mordred?"

"I take it Mordred has not explained the particulars to you. The energy requirements for calling me are extremely high. Mordred would have had to send Jack and Morgan away for the time being, at the very least. And Mordred will be incapacitated while I am here. But I swear that no harm will come to you."

"Oh, I'm not really worried about that." Illyasviel paused. "Except... that Saber looked ready for a fight. And no offense, but you don't... really give off the same vibe."

Silver smiled. "Well, there is a reason for that. But, I certainly would not want you to feel vulnerable. And as it turns out, I was about to summon some help."

Illyasviel brightened at once. "Oh, you've got a Noble Phantasm like Mordred's?"

"I have a... similar power," Silver said. "You will see." Silver made a fist, then slowly opened it. "I, Arturia Pendragon, now reach across the ages, and issue this command. Those who can hear my voice, and would obey it, I call upon you. Arturian Order: Gather!"

At once, two glowing doors sprang into existence in front of Silver. Illyasviel noticed that they were a little on the small side, and thought perhaps that Silver had made a mistake. Certainly, she thought that when a young girl emerged from each door.

"Ah," said the first girl, nodding and stroking her chin as she gazed up at Silver. "So this is what my future may hold? It would seem that I could have made the right choice in drawing Caliburn. I approve."

"That path is not guaranteed for you," Silver added, "but it is not impossible. I welcome you, Gold."

The girl blinked. She was wearing a white dress, but there was indeed a thin, undeniable golden aura around her. "Is that what I'm to be called? Very well."

The second girl said nothing, but not out of rudeness. She was staring up at Silver with wide, round eyes, and her mouth had fallen open in shock. It was the fact that the girl was wearing a gray cloak with the hood up that made Illyasviel shift so she could properly see the girl's face. A face that she instantly recognized as matching the first girl's, almost exactly.

"Is something wrong?" Silver asked, frowning.

The hooded girl blinked several times, then gasped and immediately bowed very low. "Please forgive me, most honored ancestor!" she shrieked.

Silver blanched. Gold coughed softly.

"I wish you would call me Silver," Silver said awkwardly.

"Yes, of course, Silver-sama!" the girl cried, not raising her head.

"There's no need to shout, dear." Silver reached out and patted the girl's lowered head. "I think we'll call you Gray."

Gray gasped, and jerked until she was standing upright, eyes wide again, and smiled. "Yes, if you like, Silver-sama!"

Gold leaned over to Silver and whispered, "Do you think she'll be like this the entire time?"

Silver sighed. "I certainly hope not."

Illyasviel frowned. "You summoned these two to protect me, Silver?"

Silver nodded. "I assure you, they are quite capable. Do not be fooled by their youth."

Gold moved to stand before Illyasviel, offering her sword for inspection. "Have no fear, Master. Arturia Pendragon and her peerless sword, Caliburn, are at your service!"

"Um, thanks." Illyasviel looked at Gray, who hadn't moved from her spot near Silver. "I suppose your True Name is also Ar-?"

"Gray," Gray said firmly. "My name is Gray. It was that even before my most honored ancestor decided to call me that."

"Truly?" Silver asked in surprise. "How interesting. And fortuitous."

Gray nodded. "Also, I cannot promise to serve as well as these two will."

Illyasviel blinked. "Why not?"

"I will ultimately prioritize their survival. So any order that I feel jeopardizes that, I refuse to follow. I am of the line of Arturia. In the absence of a Master I deem worthy, my loyalty is to them."

Illyasviel immediately took offense to that. "Oh, really?"

Gray was unimpressed. "You may be an extremely capable Master, I do not know. But you are not the one who called me. Even so, I will fight for the same cause that they do, if only to ensure their protection."

Gold grinned and patted Gray on the shoulder. "I think I like you. A cute bodyguard doesn't sound so bad."

Illyasviel pouted. "I guess I have to accept this, since Mordred isn't here to complain to. Well, fine. What's the first lesson, Silver?"

Silver smiled. "I believe there has been a misunderstanding. I am not your teacher. I have never exactly been a queen, after all. No, I have someone else in mind for that. But first, am I correct in assuming your studies have made you fluent in French?"

Illyasviel blinked. "Sure, but why would that matter?"

"It will make things much simpler for your actual teacher." Another glowing door appeared beside Silver.

This one was what Illyasviel considered to be a more appropriate height. But any doubts she still had were erased the instant the woman emerged through the doorway.

Illyasviel still recalled the first time she had been mature enough to look at a man, mentally compare him to Kiritsugu, and find that man lacking. Despite all flaws, and all lessons set by Elder Acht that implied the exact opposite, Kiritsugu was what a man was supposed to look like, in Illyasviel's mind. It was the same for the woman who had come through the doorway. "This is what a queen is supposed to look like," Illyasviel thought. "This is what I'm aiming for." It was not just the woman's beauty, or the grace and confidence in her movements, or even the way the room itself seemed brighter solely because she was now within it. This was an existence whose ultimate purpose was to rule over others, because it was obviously not meant to walk among them.

Silver cleared her throat. "Illyasviel von Einzbern, allow me to introduce Her Majesty, Marie Antoinette, Queen of France."

In preparation for the Holy Grail War, Illyasviel had researched not just the single Servant she expected to command, but virtually any that she might have to fight against. And so she was far more knowledgeable about Servants in general, and Marie Antoinette in particular, than most Masters would have been.

So she knew what it meant, when Marie stared at her in shock, stretched a out a trembling hand, lightly touched Illyasviel's cheek, and asked in a quivering voice, "Sophie?"

Privately, Illyasviel thought it was both an honor and a curse, to be mistaken for a royal daughter who had lived less than a year. And the desire in Marie's eyes was not so different from what Illyasviel had seen reflected in her own.

A mother seeking her lost child. A child seeking her lost mother. This was something Illyasviel could certainly sympathize with.

So it could have been instinct more than desire that drove Illyasviel's next action. Or perhaps it was simply a foolproof way to endear herself to Marie, and ensure the success of the lessons. But either way, when Illasviel reached out to embrace the queen, she was not rejected, and never would be.

* * *

"I know you aren't asleep, Mordred, and I won't allow you to ignore me any longer."

Mordred's eyes slowly opened. "I wasn't ignoring you, kaa-san. I would never do that. I'm thinking."

"About what?"

"My Master."

"You mean that foolish child-"

"Now it is I who cannot allow you to continue, kaa-san," Mordred interrupted.

Morgan le Fay pursed her lips and glared down at her only child. "To her, you show loyalty?"

Mordred sighed. "We have been over this. I was loyal to you, until I knew for sure that you had lost your way. Now I wonder if you had lost it long before you ever gave me life. But even if you had, I still would have loved and honored you for raising me. I would have put an end to your madness sooner, though."

Perhaps the comment should have sparked her rage, but it did not.

"So. What will you do?" she asked instead.

"The obvious, kaa-san. I will win."

"How are you going to do that, when you've exhausted yourself providing training for that girl? You wouldn't be here now if that were not the case."

That much, Mordred could not argue with. This place had been prepared as a sort of default, which she would return to whenever her power had been exhausted without extinguishing her life. As she had no real preferences as to its design, she had left it up to Jack, who spent far more time there. The end result was that it resembled nothing so much as a tar pit within a stone chamber. However, the black sludge was always warm, and being submerged in it for extended periods did wonders for restoring magical reserves. Jack liked it solely because it at least simulated being in a womb. And on some level, perhaps Mordred tolerated it for the same reason.

"When I used Clarent to create this place," Mordred said, "I also fashioned you, a partial imprint of my mother, as a way of soothing my own guilt. So you should understand, what it means to live for the sake of a single person. Illya is my person, for the moment, so I will do what I must for her happiness."

"She doesn't even know what she truly wants."

"Maybe not. But she is starting to form a dream, and I will help her realize it. Who better than a king who carved his kingship through sheer force of will?"

* * *

Kiritsugu had said, on more than one occasion, that being a hero of justice was not such a simple thing. Shirou had thought it was just because adults tended to not be so accepting of such things, and that was certainly true enough. Now, though, Shirou suspected it was really because a hero had to make very hard choices.

He know, of course, that Kiritsugu would have wanted him to forgive Rin, repair their damaged bond, and move forward together. Part of Shirou even wanted that, too. But it was not so simple. Because even when Shirou had finally accepted that Rin hadn't been wrong to end Kiritsugu's life, he saw a larger problem: that she had been capable of ending a life. To be fair, Shirou had been trained in a similar way... but he had never actually killed a human before. It would have been easy for Shirou to pretend that Rin's outlook was the problem. But the truth was, he was afraid: that Rin was exactly what Kiritsugu had intended her to become, and Shirou... was not. And now, with Kiritsugu gone, it seemed too late for so many things.

But then he received the phone call that changed his life. He barely recognized the voice at all, and it only spoke three words, but it was enough. After that point, Shirou had only two choices: to remain a scared child, or to become someone's hero.

* * *

"Emiya... don't come."

After that, the phone was pulled away from her lips.

"That wasn't bad," True Assassin said, dangling the phone from one hand. "Just the right amount of desperation and hopelessness. He'll surely come, if he's any sort of man at all."

"He's no man," Shinji sneered from his spot at the window.

"And yet, you're obsessed with defeating him," True Assassin pointed out, giggling. "So what does that make you, my Servant? A silly little boy who picks on children he's jealous of? Or a man so weak that he does the same?"

Shinji's face fell. "C-Come on, Assassin-sama! You said you'd let up on the teasing, if I brought you a good meal!"

"That's true, I did say that. And the Mitsuzuri siblings have been a very a good meal, considering." True Assassin paused to gently run her fingers through the hair of her latest victim. "For humans, you and your little brother are quite tasty, Ayako-chan."

"D-Don't hurt him anymore," Ayako whispered.

True Assassin laughed. "Silly girl, I didn't hurt him at all. I assure you, he quite enjoyed every moment of my feeding on him. It was just that he was so weak by the time you discovered us, that maybe you got the wrong idea. But don't worry, I won't kill either of you. You're bait, so I need you alive. And once we have what we came for, why, I'll even let you live."

"You will?" Shinji asked in surprise.

True Assassin shook her head. "Just because I require blood, and have been summoned in this class, does not mean I intend to kill every person I come across. I'm not a mindless Berserker. I have standards. Although you might not know it, from looking at my-" She trailed off, smiling insincerely at Shinji. "Sorry. Truly. It's so much fun to tease you."

He pouted. "Anyway, are you sure you want to let them live? What if they tell someone what we did?"

"You mean, what if they decide to tell someone that a vampire broke into their house, drained them of blood, and allowed them to live? Then we know where to find them for our next visit: wherever humans send their insane. And that is assuming that someone else involved in the War doesn't decide to clean up any collateral damage. In which case, I'm not the one they should be worried about. But I can appreciate why they're unable to look that far ahead."

"Okay, but shouldn't we at least threaten them or something?"

True Assassin frowned. "Do not forget your role, Servant. Go check on little brother. Make him drink something, if he's aware enough. And careful not to let him choke."

Frowning, Shinji left the room.

"So. Alone at last." True Assassin sighed and stretched out luxuriously on the bed, smiling at Ayako. "Don't take it personally, my dear. Blame my Servant for recommending you."

"Why... Emiya?" Ayako whispered.

"Darling, I haven't the faintest idea. I couldn't care less who my Servant preys on, for the most part. With a few exceptions, most humans taste the same to me. But this Emiya occupies so much of my Servant's attention, it's best to deal with that right away. I do not play second fiddle well."

* * *

Shirou had only taken one step out of the house when Lancer appeared before him, resulting in an unavoidable collision, and Shirou finding himself on the ground.

"Why did you do that?" Shirou demanded as he got to his feet. "No, forget it, I haven't got time!" He tried to go around Lancer, but found his path blocked again.

"Where are you going, little brother?" Lancer asked.

"None of your business, just move!"

Lancer's eyes narrowed. "You don't realize it, but I can almost smell it on you. You aren't thinking about yourself anymore. You're going to be someone's hero, aren't you?"

Shirou paused. "I don't know, but Mitsuzuri is-!"

"In danger. And you're going to save her. And you won't ask for my help."

"Look, you can help me or not, but I'm leaving-"

"On your own, you'll never get there in time, and even if you did, you would die without accomplishing anything. In the state of mind you're in, I bet you'd be fine with that. But that would leave that poor girl without a hero to reward a kiss to, and we can't have that." Lancer picked up Shirou and tucked him under on arm. "Hang on tight and keep your mouth shut, unless you want bugs in your teeth."

Having seen Lancer run before, Shirou shut his eyes. But even as the winds began to rush past him, he realized something important. Lancer's help was appreciated, but given each of their respective moods, Shirou doubted the offer would have been made, if this was something that Shirou could handle alone. And that likely meant another Servant was involved.

For the first time, Shirou sincerely regretted his fight with Rin. Not because he felt guilty, though. Rin and Sakura would have been great to have as allies right now. That, and he really couldn't afford to have them as enemies, if Servants were targeting innocents. He would have to apologize to the sisters, for safety's sake if nothing else. If Mitsuzuri, or someone else, died because he had been too stubborn, Shirou would never forgive himself.

* * *

Gray would never dream of complaining, but she was admittedly a little disappointed so far. She had thought that Silver had called upon her specifically for some reason. But, there had been nothing for Gray to do, unless her presence was somehow serving a purpose that Gray simply could not see. Likewise, Gold had been given no orders, either, and Silver seemed content to wait until Illyasviel and Marie finished their lessons in the next room.

Still, Gray was also very much excited. Being this close to not one, but two distinct representations of the legendary Arturia was something she had only dreamed of. Of course, she understood that they were not necessarily accurate representations. Silver hailed from a world where she had completed her reign and given the throne to Mordred, and all that could be said for certain about Gold was that she had only recently drawn Caliburn from the stone. There was no guarantee that Gold would become Silver, or even that Silver had ever been this particular version of Gold.

There were too many variables involved, and from the little Gray had been told, Silver had not truly selected them individually. Rather, the way Silver had explained it, only those who met certain qualifications could even respond to her call, and of that number, Gray and Gold had been chosen somehow, and not necessarily by Silver. That, too, had been disappointing to learn, but Silver remained confident that she had not made a mistake, and was perfectly happy with the results. Gray wasn't sure how that could be true, as nothing had been asked of her or Gold so far, other than to await instructions from Illyasviel. Gold was passing the time by polishing Caliburn, and Gray had already awkwardly turned down an invitation to do the same with her own weapon. Even if such a thing could be allowed, she feared that all of her ancestors would weep if she dared to polish Rhongomyniad in the presence of two Arturias.

Without warning, Silver suddenly spoke. "Gold. Gray. When he appears, you must not take any aggressive action. The reason should be obvious to you both."

There was no time to react properly to that statement. In the next instant, he was there, standing before Silver with both curiosity and desire in his eyes.

"You age well, Arturia," he said at last. "As expected."

"I am honored by your observation, Ruler," Silver replied. "Should I take your presence to mean we have displeased you in some way?"

"Those who earn my displeasure need never question if they have. I am not subtle when it comes to such things." Gilgamesh swept his gaze across the room. "That said, my attention has settled upon your camp. Whether that leads to my displeasure depends entirely on what emerges from the next room."

"If you are referring to my Master, then-"

"You are either lying or mistaken," Gilgamesh cut in. "There is no Master in that room any longer."

Silver frowned, and then her eyes widened. Clearly, she could now sense what he did.

The door opened. Beyond it, Silver's eyes confirmed what she already knew to be true: Illyasviel was alone, and Marie was gone, having dismissed herself only seconds before. Silver had felt the resulting rise in her own power, indicating that she was no longer supporting a third Servant. Still, this was surprising: Marie and Illyasviel had not even been together for a whole hour. Surely, the lesson was not done already. And yet, that must have been the case: Marie was not simply waiting to be called upon later, she was entirely gone. Something almost had to have gone wrong.

And then Illyasviel turned to them.

The results of Marie's lessons were immediately obvious, but it was more than that. Something in Illyasviel's eyes had changed, and Silver did not dare to voice what she was sensing.

But then Gilgamesh began to laugh, so hard that actual tears appeared in his eyes. Thankfully, it sounded like he was genuinely entertained.

"The nerve! The absolute daring! The very idea that you would stand before me, in this form, has amused me like nothing before! I applaud your determination, little princess! Never let it be said that the Ruler of Heroes does not recognize those who amuse him!" He extended his hand, and a jeweled crown dropped neatly onto her head. "For the duration of this Holy Grail War, I will recognize you as Sophie Helena von Einzbern, of the Pre-Ruler class. I charge you with ensuring that every Servant within the range of your senses abides by my decrees, and adequately penalizing those who do not. Your own Servant, and their subordinates, are not exempt from this. Do well, and you will know treasures beyond measure. Fail, and your only wish will be to have never known existence at all."

Illyasviel lowered her head and curtsied to him. "I understand, Ruler. Your will is law."

Gilgamesh smirked. "Well said." He turned and vanished.

Silver hesitantly approached Illyasviel. "How much of you is-?"

"Don't worry, Silver. I'm still me. But Sophie's here, too. It's hard to explain. I don't know if it's because she died so young, or because this is the arrangement she wanted, but I don't even really feel possessed. There's power I didn't have before, and if I really concentrate, I can hear her voice. She wants a chance to see this world, for as long as she can. But she also wants to protect our family." Illyasviel closed her eyes briefly. "My brother is in danger. If I don't do something, he could die."

Silver paused. "You never mentioned a brother."

"I know. I'll explain later." Illyasviel turned to Gold, who knelt before her. "Gold, can I ask you to protect my brother? He's sort of clueless, but he's not a bad person."

Gold nodded. "Have no fear. It will be done, Master." She vanished on the spot.

Illyasviel next turned to Gray. "Will you go with Gold, or stay here?"

"I will stay, unless I sense Gold is in danger," Gray replied. "But, I don't think that will be an issue."

"You mean, because she is very strong?"

Gray shook her head. "Because, I'm a grave-keeper, and from what I can sense of Gold's power... she can't die."

* * *

Though it had been years ago, Shirou still remembered the last time he had been the Mitsuzuri home. It had been much like his own: filled with warmth and light. But that atmosphere was gone now. There was a certain stillness that seemed to breed a sense of malevolence, and it coated the home like a death shroud. Even being near it made Shirou fear the worst for his friend. And while he was still determined to save her, he knew instinctively that this was what Kiritsugu had been preparing him for: a mission that could mean losing his own life in the process. But the precious memories of Mitsuzuri smiling at him were all the motivation he needed. He would never abandon her, and certainly not to whatever end lurked in that house.

"I don't know if you can tell," Lancer said suddenly, "but there's a Servant in there. And based on what I've seen so far, I have an idea as to which one it is."

"You're saying I don't stand a chance without you," Shirou guessed.

"I'm saying this would be dangerous no matter how much training you have. Any Master that would order or allow their Servant to prey on humans is dangerous."

"Oh, don't say that," murmured a soft, sweet voice. "I assure you, my Servant is quite harmless. He's only a useless little boy. I'm the one you should be worried about."

Lancer stiffened, his eyes rapidly swinging back and forth, trying to locate the speaker. "I don't recognize your voice. So you aren't with the two I spoke with earlier?"

"I don't know what you mean. But since you're here, that means you are my targets. So the boy must be Emiya, hmm? I can't say I sense much talent in him, but based on looks alone, I think I already prefer him to my own Servant."

Shirou frowned. "I don't get it. Are you a Servant, or a Master?"

"That is the question, isn't it?"

Shirou opened his mouth, and froze as soft fingers gently caressed his cheek. He had no idea how the speaker had gotten behind him, and more importantly, past Lancer. But as he glanced at Lancer, and found the Servant both wide-eyed and frozen in shock, he started to feel that Lancer wasn't going to be much help here. Steeling himself for whatever he might face, Shirou turned around, and stared in shock as well, at the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his short life.

"Mmm, I was right. You're much better-looking up close," the girl cooed, releasing Shirou and placing her hands on her hips. "Not much of a gentleman, though. You haven't even requested the unmatched honor of knowing my name."

Shirou was on the verge of doing just that, but then he snapped his mouth shut, shook his head, and glared at her. "What did you do to Mitsuzuri?!" he demanded.

She blinked, clearly surprised. "Amazing. Even this close to me, you haven't lost your will? It's not that you're too young, either. Maybe you have some special ability that protects you? But even your Servant isn't immune. Surely it can't be that you're that determined, then?"

Shirou took in and released several deep breaths. Then, boldly, he took a step towards her. "Please. Even if you are willing to fight us, I'd rather not hit such a pretty girl. Tell me where Mitsuzuri is, and we'll leave you alone."

The girl stared at him, a slight blush appearing in her cheeks. "You really mean... no, that won't work."

"Why not?" Shirou asked.

She smiled. "Because... I've decided that I like you."

Lancer groaned. "Why does this kid keep attracting all the wrong girls?"

Shirou wasn't ready to give up, as he felt certain that she'd almost been ready to agree with him. "All I want is to save my friend. Can't we work out some sort of trade that doesn't involve fighting?"

The girl shook her head. "That's a problem. First, you still haven't asked for my name. Second, my Servant really doesn't like you. But that's only an issue as long as I'm with him." Her smile widened. "If I were with you, though..."

Shirou bowed. "I'm very sorry for my rudeness. May I please know your name?"

Her fingers gently seized his chin and lifted his head, so that he was looking into her eyes. "Stheno. I am the True Assassin of this Holy Grail War."

Lancer's hands twitched at his sides. Stheno clearly saw them, and while she did not bring attention to them, her smile widened further and she dropped her own hand.

"Your friend and her brother are inside," Stheno said. "With a little rest, they'll be fine. But I'm afraid I can't let you go in until we resolve the second part of our problem: I am bound by my Servant's will. For the moment."

Lancer shook his head. "She's offering to make a contract with you, little brother."

Shirou blinked. "Is that allowed? What happens to you, then?"

"I have no experience with such a situation. But since no one is being forced into it, I would guess that if you can manage it without help, it is allowed. But if it isn't, you must be prepared for the consequences. And, if I'm being honest, this is the worst type of opponent for us both. If she's truly offering to become an ally, you should at least consider it."

"I'm surprised to hear that from you," Stheno admitted. "Why the change of heart?"

"If everything you've said is true, so far you have done nothing that cannot be forgiven or explained by the circumstances. But a piece of advice: contracts can be broken. If you reveal yourself to be a threat to my Master, I will find a way to do what I must."

"However difficult that may prove for you, I don't doubt you. But you must already know that I am not without my own resources." Stheno turned to Shirou and smiled. "Let me have your answer. Will you contract with me?"

Shirou very nearly said he was mostly doing it because it was the fastest way to make sure that Mitsuzuri was safe, but thought better of it, and instead reached for her extended hand.

An iron grip seized his wrist before he could touch her.

"That's far enough, young Master. I'll handle the rest."

Shirou blinked and stared at the golden-haired girl in white holding his wrist. "Who are you?"

"An emissary of the Einzbern princess. She does not wish to see you harmed, and harm is all this one here can give you. I can smell it on her." She glanced at Shirou. "You may call me Gold."

"I'll call you a pest," Stheno hissed. "This is none of your business."

"Not so good at handling those who can't be swayed by your charms, are you?" Gold demanded, releasing Shirou and stomping towards Stheno, who backed away. "Come! If you are you so intent on having this boy, you'll have to go through me!"

Shirou stared at Gold's back. "Did... Illya really send you?"

"She did, indeed, young Master. Now, please, witness the power of one who serves her!" Gold suddenly lurched forward, and though Stheno gracefully moved aside, Gold's hand managed to clamp onto her wrist.

"You really are a pest!" Stheno shouted, causing Gold to smirk.

"And you are a demon that I cannot allow near the young Master." Gold called over her shoulder. "Lancer! Please move the young Master away. My attack covers a wide range, and I dare not hold back against this threat."

Lancer needed no further coaxing: he grabbed Shirou and immediately ran off.

Gold grinned, her eyes flashing. "Now, demon. Let's see how you withstand the weight of my legend!"

Stheno struggled uselessly in Gold's grip, then gasped as she noticed several beads of sweat trickling down her own arms. All too soon, the beads became a stream, and soon after that, they were no longer clear, but crimson. "W-What are you doing?" she demanded, then shrieked in fear as she raised her eyes to Gold's face, just in time to witness Gold's own eyes exploding in the sockets.

"Caliburning!" Gold screamed, and an instant later, everything in the area was reduced to smoking ashes.

From a safe distance, Lancer grunted. "A suicide attack that flash-fries the area. I didn't expect that."

"Gold is dead?" Shirou asked in horror.

Lancer was about to answer, then grunted again. "Look again, little brother."

Shirou looked, and could hardly believe his eyes.

Something was rustling in the cinders, slowly taking form, as if guided by an unseen hand of wind. After a few seconds, the shape was clearly a skeleton.

"S-She's coming back," Shirou whispered in disbelief as flesh began to sprout on the skeleton.

"And she's not alone," Lancer added. For he had seen what Shirou had missed: there was not one, but two skeletons, and they were still locked together by Gold's grip. In just under a minute, the revival was complete: Gold and Stheno were staring at each other, though it was hard to tell who was more shocked.

"You survived," Gold whispered.

"No, I didn't," Stheno spat. "I died, and trust me, it hurt like hell. But I came back, and I always will. You can't defeat me, no matter how many times you kill me."

Gold's eyes widened, and then, she smiled. "My lady. At last, I have found my eternal rival!"

Stheno blanched. "W-What? What are you talking about?! I have no interest in you!"

Gold leaned closer. "But I am _very_ interested in you. You don't like pain, but I wonder how much you can bear?"

Stheno began to struggle as she felt the heat around them increasing again. "No! Stop it, you crazy idiot! Not again!"

"Caliburning!" Gold shouted in glee over Stheno's scream of protest.

"I think you've lost your chance to contract with the lady," Lancer noted, sounding amused.

"Why do you say that?" Shirou asked. "Look, they're coming back again."

"Yes, but... I suspect her dance card has just been filled, permanently."

Lancer was soon proven right: after a third dose of Caliburning, only Gold revived on the spot. But it was clear that the wind which suddenly picked up had far too many ashes in it, and that Stheno was not a fan of pushy suitors.

"Ah, my dear lady. Run if you like. The pursuit is half the fun," Gold sighed wistfully.

Shirou hesitantly approached. "Um, Gold? Are you... okay?"

Gold spun on the spot and grinned. "Rest easy, young Master! You are unharmed, I see, so my task is done for the moment. I must report back to my princess. Lancer, please continue to watch over him. But, if you should ever have need of Caliburn's might, then we would be happy to assist! Farewell!" Gold vanished at once.

"We... should go check on Mitsuzuri," Shirou said after a moment, sounding fairly confused.

"Yes," Lancer agreed, shaking his head. "Something that makes sense is exactly what we need right now."

* * *

When Stheno opened her eyes in the darkness, she felt only fury. She had been so close. Another few seconds, and Shirou would have been hers, despite that curious resistance of his she hadn't had a chance to examine closer. If only that fool Gold hadn't interfered.

She was seconds away from cursing Gold, again, when a voice spoke.

"Stheno?"

It echoed in her very soul, and before she had even raised her head, Stheno reached out to take the hand she knew must be there.

"Eurayle."

Stheno was pulled to her feet, and though her vision was blurred with tears of joy, she could still make out the other girl in the darkness. She needed no light to know that hand's owner.

"Are you hurt?"

"That doesn't matter." Stheno gently embraced her twin, closing her eyes as she felt Eurayle's tears on her skin. "Nothing but this matters now."

"I heard your voice. I didn't dare to believe it. I thought I was going mad, but-"

"You are not mad, Eurayle. I am here. We are here. And this is the Holy Grail War."

"Yes. Another chance." Eurayle lifted her head and smiled.

Stheno passed her thumb over Eurayle's lips, calmly considering the blood she found there. "Shame on you. You ate without me. Not even Medusa would dare-"

The wall beyond them exploded inward. Had they been a few steps closer, they would have been showered in debris. But, Stheno already suspected that Eurayle shared the same undying power that she did. Even so, she did not dare to test such an unproven theory with her precious twin's borrowed life, and moved Eurayle behind her.

The misshapen figure that lumbered through the gaping hole in the wall did not speak, and other than intruding, took no further action that could be deemed as aggressive.

"What-?" Eurayle began to ask.

The intruder froze, and then let out a high-pitched, keening whine.

"My dear one, why did you-?" a voice began to ask.

"MEDUSA?!"

The cry had come from both Stheno and Eurayle. It had to, because neither could stay silent, after hearing that voice.

After a pause, a pale, shocked face rose up from the intruder's shoulder, the mouth working soundlessly. But it didn't need sounds. There were only two names that mouth could possibly be trying to say.

On some unseen signal, they moved as one: Berserker lifted Rider and placed her carefully on the ground, even as Stheno and Eurayle ran forward, smothering their lost sister in hugs and kisses and tears. And when Berserker whined and shifted uncertainly, Eurayle's hand shot out and grabbed her head, drawing her into the group.

There were so many questions that should have been asked, but they would all wait. Stheno had been right: nothing else mattered in that moment. Not the Grail, not their cursed fate, and not even why or how Medusa had ended up spread across two bodies. No words were needed to express what each member of the family was currently thinking: at last, they were all reunited, and they would do anything to make sure that they never lost each other again.

* * *

Why was he so unlucky?

Shinji had no idea. He only knew he had to run.

True Assassin had abandoned him. He had not been able to hear the conversation between her and Shirou, but he'd watched from a window, and gotten the distinct impression that they had been forming some arrangement that would leave him with nothing.

Then some strange, loud Servant in white had shown up, and actually defeated True Assassin. It made no sense. Not that Shinji's Servant had been defeated, but that he was unable to gather any meaningful data on the opposing Servant. The readout on Shirou's Lancer had worked perfectly. But every time Shinji looked at that other Servant, he got the same error message.

"Arturian Detected. Data Restricted. Valid Password Required."

There was nothing about anything like that in the texts that Shinji had studied. And he still had his Command Spells, so there was nothing wrong with his access level, as far as he knew. True Assassin was no longer answering him, but he wasn't going to waste a Command Spell to summon her if she didn't want to come. She could easily leave him again. Or kill him.

So his only option was to run.

Even back when True Assassin had seemed willing to work with him, he had wisely checked the status of the local church, and was glad he had. It had been completely destroyed. Which meant there was no safe place in this Holy Grail War. So the only place Shinji could go now, was home.

It was by no means safe. But at the very least, the likelihood of a Servant butchering him there was extremely low.

No, if anyone would butcher him there, it wouldn't be a Servant.

Shinji knew that all too well. But, he was out of options. And so he ran.

That is, until his foot came down in what he mistook for a puddle. But there was no resistance, no ground, and Shinji's eyes widened as he plunged into a spreading pool of pure darkness. He didn't even have time to scream before he was swallowed up.

The pool vanished as a man appeared where it had been an instant before. He was far too tall, and wearing a tattered, black cloak.

The older, smaller man that slowly approached him was not his Master.

"And that's the end of my foolish grandson, I take it," Zouken Matou murmured.

The tall man stared at Zouken. "You will do nothing?"

"What is there to do? It has been made very clear to me that my role in this War is to observe, nothing more. She was always going to kill him, eventually. The when never mattered as much as the how."

"He is not dead. Not yet, at least. My Master will decide, if that should change."

Zouken grinned. "The things I might have done, if I had been able to summon you, Assassin."

"There is only one person in this world who could ever be my Master. You are not that person." With that, the Knight of the Deep turned and walked away.

Zouken hummed to himself as he considered the spot where Shinji had fallen. "Arturians, huh," he said softly. "You shouldn't be so quick to snub me, Lancelot. This War isn't over yet, and by the end, being my Servant might be very appealing to you."

**End of Chapter.**

* * *

**Continued in Chapter 7: A Family Divided, Part 2**

Rin tries to find the cause of mass disappearances around the city.

* * *

**Endnotes:**

After I got Marie Antoinette (Rider) in FGO, I decided to research her a bit. Which is how I ended up giving Sophie a part in this story. She doesn't exist (to my knowledge) in FGO, but I wanted to do something different.

My initial idea for Gold's appearance was the exact scene in which Alturia draws Caliburn... but once I got Alturia Lily in-game, for some reason, I couldn't stop picturing that white dress. So it stuck.

I must confess to being fascinated by Lord El-Melloi II. I must do that because I absolutely wasn't fascinated by Waver Velvet. So the very idea that I would watch an entire series based on his future self is weird (I admit to being hooked largely by the idea that Reines would manage to deflower him by the end). But I did watch, and I'm very glad I did. Which is a rather long way of saying, yes, it's that Gray, or at least a version very similar to her.

* * *

**BIOS:**

_Sub-Class: Arturian_  
Arturian is a sub-class exclusive to those Servants who answer to the name of, are descended from, or otherwise share a bond with, Arturia Pendragon. As many are alterations of the very same person, a Master cannot summon them through normal means, or at all. Instead, it is far easier to access an Arturian who can then summon others to their side. Though they may originate from drastically different backgrounds, commonly their loyalty is, first and foremost, to justice and Britain, and thus, each other. They are each "restricted" to three individual Skills and a single Noble Phantasm.

* * *

**Arturia Pendragon, a.k.a. Arturian "Silver"**  
A former king whose heir has risen to the throne. She would have gladly removed her crown for that reason, but Mordred insisted she keep it (Mordred rarely wears a crown). Even in her retired state, and with Morgan's Refined Galvanism active, the weight of Silver's legend prevents Mordred from calling on her as a follower. A successful summon effectively puts Mordred out of commission for the entire duration of Silver's visit, essentially meaning that Silver replaces Mordred as a Servant. Furthermore, any Servants that Mordred has previously called must be recalled, though this is balanced by Silver being able to summon Arturians. There is some definite connection between the two parties, although Silver's summons would not necessarily know of Mordred's existence, and thus could not recognize her as king, so the only certainty is that Mordred's Noble Phantasm is not responsible.

_Signature Skills:_  
**WISE:** A lifetime of experience, benefiting from the wisdom of Merlin, and in service as Britain's king. Far beyond instinct, hers is an intelligence capable of seeing solutions even before the problem is obvious to others. As such, her choices may seem questionable at first, but she unfailingly selects measures that will lead to a favorable end.  
**Arturian Order: Gather:** Recruits allied Arturians.  
**Mature Dragon:** One who has survived many battles and is comfortable in their great power. Boosts the power of all Arturian Noble Phantasms.

* * *

**Arturia Pendragon, a.k.a. Arturian "Gold"**  
She is the very image of Arturia after drawing Caliburn from the stone: young, determined, reckless, and hungry for adventure.

_Signature Skills:_  
**BRAVE:** The child cast away childish things, and unflinchingly seized a fate that would cause most men to hesitate. It is not that she has no fear. It is that she views fear as part of her grand adventure, and she will let nothing turn her away from it.  
**Non-Human Existence:** A king is no longer human, and a child who seeks and embraces the path to kingship, even less so. Therefore, she cannot be expected to behave as a human. She seeks battle, does not display fear, and though she has honor, will kill with little provocation if she determines it is right for her. She cannot die: she is legend.  
**Immature Dragon:** Not yet at the peak of her power, but already far beyond what a child that age should ever possess. Boosts the attack of all Arturians.

_Noble Phantasm:_** Caliburning  
**The enormity of King Arthur's legend, preserved in a golden aura of obliterating heat. Even she cannot escape it unscathed, but due to Non-Human Existence, she has nothing to fear from the damage.

* * *

**Arturian "Gray"**  
A mysterious existence.

_Signature Skills:_  
**RESOLVE:** She is afraid, and hesitant, and worried. But she will devote all of her power to protecting those who bear that face, at least until she truly understands the bond they all share.  
**Descend Ant:** Compared to the scope of Arturian legend, her existence is but an ant. And yet, an ant can carry many times its own weight. Though she may seem weak, that she exists at all is proof that she can endure the enormity of her magical heritage.  
**Sleeping Dragon:** The majority of her power is sealed, but as she also holds the key, and fair judgment, this is hardly a hindrance. Boosts the defense of all Arturians.  
_Noble Phantasm: _**Rhongomyniad**

* * *

**Sophie Helena Beatrice of France, a.k.a. "Sophie Helena von Einzbern"**  
_Class: Pre-Ruler_

Sophie was the last of Marie Antoinette's four children, but the first to die. As her life ended before she could do anything that would qualify her as a Saint, who can say what she might have become? The Church can only recognize that she was a baptized child. Yet her desire to live spoke to the Grail, and its response was to grant her what otherwise would have been the Ruler class. But Gilgamesh would never allow a second Ruler to threaten his reign. Instead, he creates a subordinate Ruler class for Sophie to occupy. As she has yet to truly live, this provides her a chance to learn, both about the class itself, and life in general. (Never let it be said that the Ruler of Heroes does not provide on the job training for those who serve him well.) While Sophie's presence is within her, Illya is considered a psuedo-Servant.

_Class Skills:_

**Destined to Rule: B+**  
This composite Skill grants Sophie limited versions of the expected Ruler abilities. She cannot hope to intimidate defiant Servants with this rank, but so long as she acts in accordance with Ruler's will, order will be maintained.

_Personal Skills:_  
**Vive la France!: Rank Varies**  
Allows Sophie to borrow a Skill from any form of Marie Antoinette. In most cases, the borrowed Skill would have less power than if Marie herself was using them. But as is common of the Ruler class, any defenses used against the six standard Servant classes would have increased power.

**Blood Protection: C**  
Due to her entire family meeting tragic ends, Sophie has gained an instinctive awareness that activates when one who shares her blood approaches mortal peril. In her current state, this Skill would serve little purpose for Sophie, but she can attune it to her host, so that Illya can protect her own family.

* * *

**Euryale**  
_Class: True Archer_

Euryale is the "True" Archer, both in the sense that Atalanta was no longer an Archer, and that Euryale was fated to be summoned as Archer in this Holy Grail War. But there was no mistake in the order they were summoned. A woman, and especially a Greek heroine and Argonaut, would have only caused trouble for Euryale.

_Class Skills:_  
**Independent Action: A+**  
**Magic Resistance: A**  
**Goddess's Divine Core: EX**

_Personal Skills:_  
**Blood-Sucking: C - B** [Ranked Up due to Shapeless Sisters]  
**Alluring Nightingale (Words of Defiance): A**  
Eurayle's voice becomes more devastating as her anger rises, taking the form of concussive sound waves that obliterate targets in her path. This is most effective against nonliving matter, making her adept at destroying equipment, such as armor or weapons.  
**Goddess's Whim: A**

_Noble Phantasms:_  
**Eye of the Euryale: B**  
**Shapeless Sisters: A**  
A composite Noble Phantasm that provides overlapping effects for all Gorgon sisters. Eurayle's effect: Blood-Sucking is Ranked Up for all sisters, if Medusa and Stheno are present.

* * *

**Stheno a.k.a. Shinji's Master**  
_Class: True Assassin_

Normally, Stheno could not be summoned at all, and certainly not while another Assassin was present. But the presence of two Gorgon sisters in a War demanded that the last one join them, no matter what.

_Class Skills:_  
**Presence Concealment: A+**  
**Goddess's Divine Core: EX**  
**Magic Resistance: A**  
**Territory Creation: C**  
Allows for the creation of Temple of Blood, so long as Medusa and Eurayle are present. Also requires one of the sisters to reside in a temple. Provides a small stat boost "to anyone named Medusa".

_Personal Skills:_  
**Blood-Sucking: C - B** [Ranked Up due to Shapeless Sisters]  
**Alluring Nightingale (Whispers of the End): A - E**  
Stheno's voice serves as her main source of offense and defense. There are precious few men who can entirely resist both her beauty and words. Even those with the strongest wills would simply be unable or unwilling to harm her, but any who fell under her spell would do whatever she commanded. She has no power over women, however.  
**Goddess's Whim: A**  
Stheno is treated as a Caster while Blood Fort Andromeda is active, which allows her to use Territory Creation.

_Noble Phantasms:_  
**Smile of the Stheno: B**  
**Shapeless Sisters: A**  
Once Temple of Blood is active, the following rules are enforced:  
1) Medusa must protect her sisters, and evolves faster.  
2) Only heroines are entirely immune to Alluring Nightingale.  
3) Only Medusa can end the existence of her sisters as individuals.  
4) Medusa can only die if beheaded by a Greek hero.


End file.
